Tibet is commonly thought of as a land filled with monasteries, which are central to maintaining the transmission of the teachings of the Buddha. However, there is a widely held view—shared by many lamas as well as Western academics—that what has been critical for the perpetuation of the most essential Buddhist instructions in Tibet are actually centers for meditation in retreat and the activities of their inhabitants. For instance, Shamar Rinpoche claims that real transmission of the dharma in Tibet did not take place in the monasteries but in the caves. This view is also supported by Lama Ole Nydahl, who along with his late wife, Hannah, founded Diamond Way Buddhism in the West.
What is more, renowned Tibetan Studies scholars notice the growing popularity of retreat practice in modern Tibet, arguing that its development still expresses the prevailing force of Buddhism on Tibetan soil today. The phenomenon is actually said to promote the re-establishment of Tibetan national identity because it can be seen as a re-affirmation of traditional values in the face of the Chinese occupation and colonial presence.
It was the historical Buddha Shakyamuni himself who first outlined the benefits of practicing meditation in In Search of the Lost World: Finding a Modern Milarepa By Maria Przyjemska Maria is from Gdansk, Poland. While doing research for her doctoral dissertation in Tibetan Studies, she and some friends traveled to Kham in eastern Tibet. This article is a report and reflection on her two visits to Lachi in Tibet. prolonged periods of isolation. He also provided the role model of a yogi who abandons the ever-changing world to find lasting happiness by practicing meditation in a setting that is free from mundane distractions. As far as solitary training in the highest teachings is concerned, Buddha’s example was then followed by some of the Indian accomplishers of the Tantric period (Fourth to 11th century CE). Striving to realize mind’s deepest potential, a few mahasiddhas, as they were called, applied the Diamond Way methods while practicing in secrecy and dwelling in remote surroundings.
Retreat traditions first arrived in Tibet in the 7th century, along with the whole of Diamond Way Buddhism. From that time on, professional meditators have always been considered an elite, enjoying great prestige in both social and political life. Ironically, those who sought to withdraw from the world became great authorities not only for spiritual, but also worldly matters. They were expected to serve the community with their wisdom and power, which they accumulated through their uncompromising practice—a quality greatly respected in many Asian societies.
Meditators in retreat strive to uncover the ultimate truth in this life, regardless of the hardships associated with solitary life in the wilderness. The historical Buddha provided an example of this lifestyle, completely subordinate to the goal of realizing the mind’s true nature, yet free from the extremes of ascetic penance or indulgence. In retreat, solitude provides the practitioners with certain “laboratory” conditions necessary to investigate their mind. It is the catalyst for rapid progress unimpeded by engagement in mundane activities. Isolation is used as a supporting factor for successful practice: By severing all distractions and dependence on outer conditions, the yogi is able to make meditation the sole focus of his existence. What is more, the inconveniences that arise as a natural part of life in rough, remote surroundings are used for developing additional strength and courage to accept any obstacles as part of the path.
I bow down at the feet of Marpa,
Milarepa (11th century)
the Gracious One.
Because I have left my kinsmen,
I am happy;
Because I possess the great
wealth of Dharma, I am happy.
Because I cling not to house and
family, I am happy;
I need not this or that,
so I am happy.
Because I worry not about
property, I am happy;
Without hope or fear, I am happy.
This is a song of gaiety I sing,
This is a song of gratitude to my
Guru and the
Three Precious Ones.
I want no other happiness.
For me personally, meditation in retreat is not only a matter of interest stemming from my being a Buddhist practitioner, but also a professional concern, since the investigation of this subject is my doctoral thesis in Tibetan Studies at the Humboldt University of Berlin. My research aims at examining the status and role of retreat traditions in contemporary eastern Tibet and how their significance has changed since the late 19th century.
The particular sites of this solitary quest for awakening that I have chosen for my study are situated in the Kham region of eastern Tibet, characterized by its rich culture and the sturdy, independent spirit of its people. In the 19th century, Khampa lamas were responsible for the great revival of the Buddhist teachings in Tibet, and today many are apparently activating them anew.
In September 2007 I set off for Eastern Tibet for the first time. It was a three-month pilgrimage and journey to conduct field studies necessary for my research. I was accompanied by two friends, Thomas from Berlin and Franz from Perth, Australia. In the months that followed, we traveled throughout Kham and visited many retreat centers. We were very impressed by the dedication and devotion of the practitioners. We were also extremely fortunate to meet some authentic meditation masters, whose activity is the reason that the profound methods of the Diamond Way have not been lost to Tibetans, in spite of the Chinese presence and the cultural destruction.
Out of all experiences on our eventful expedition, it is the encounter with the yogi Tsultrim Tharchin that I would like to to write about. Meeting him left a lasting impression on our minds. He is living proof that these higher forms of practice have survived and are being accomplished and passed on today.
In the latter part of our trip we arrived in the northern area of Nangchen. Since our method for gathering information involved stopovers at monasteries, where the monks knew the retreat places and yogis of their lineage, we set off for Goche Gompa, a place referred to in my Tibet guidebook as “a Shamar Rinpoche monastery.” This was a bold assumption, since most people throughout Asia support “the Dalai Lama Karmapa” and as such are not very open towards Karmapa Thaye Dorje’s (the 17th Karmapa whom I follow in the Karma Kagyu lineage) most prominent supporter, the Kunzig Shamarpa. When we arrived at Goche Gompa, full of hopes of meeting friends from our mother lineage who do not engage in political affairs, we realized that the monastery had been taken over by the followers of Situpa and Urgyen Trinley (the other person who claims to be the 17th Karmapa). It was not how we had planned it, but we had come this far and were now here, so we decided to make the best out of the situation, avoiding political discussions and trying to collect some information. It is here that we first heard the name of Tsultrim Tharchin and were directed to his retreat. This is how the accidental trip to Goche Gompa—though anyone with a sense of logic denies the existence of “accidents”—turned out to be a defining moment of our whole journey, guiding us to discover this great accomplisher, who is said to be Milarepa’s likeness.
The retreat center that Tsultrim Tharchin oversees is associated with the Barom Kagyu monastery of Kyodrak, as well as with Kyodrak Senge Dzong, one of the 25 power places of Guru Rinpoche, where he himself manifested and concealed instructions to guide his students in future generations. The Guru Rinpoche power place itself is a large red-grayish mound with many peculiar caves worthy of exploration, as well as a spectacular view over the whole valley and the azure Dza Chu River.
The khenpo (chief instructor or spiritual authority) of the monastery’s college was friendly and inquisitive—in this part of the world white faces provoke many questions. He explained that in his college, meditation classes were compulsory, but if people really wished to practice, they went up to live at the retreat center two hours away from the shedra (the school). The hermitage was named Lachi, after one of the great yogi Milarepa’s favorite shelters, and was home to one of the most accomplished meditation teachers in eastern Tibet: the Repa Tsultrim Tarchin.
Repas are practitioners whose lifestyle is based on the example of the most famous of them all: Milarepa. They vow only to wear one layer of cotton, even in the toughest of Himalayan winters; and they survive on very little food, living in caves or tiny huts. The Lachi hermitage housed three such amazing people, as well as around 120 others.
Although we arrived unannounced, we were immediately given a reception so warm that we almost felt embarrassed. We were given a new cabin, blankets, candles, a wonderful lunch and a feeling of having arrived home. And all that in spite of our open allegiance to Thaye Dorje! This is where the son of the master and at the same time, the lama second in charge, Tsultrim Dudul Rinpoche, completely astonished us. When we were showing our presentation on our lay Buddhism in the West, he took a photo of Thaye Dorje and placed it under his robe, on his heart center. Then he closed his eyes for a long time. I never saw the picture after that—he really wanted to keep it! The Rinpoche had spent most of his young life in retreat, practicing all the special methods of the Kagyu lineage, including the Six Yogas of Naropa under the guidance of the Repa. We hoped that our connection would somehow help to introduce our Karmapa to the Tibetans.
The meditation settlement of Lachi consisted of some 25 newly-built cabins. The Guru Rinpoche power place extended here, too; moreover, it was a site where Great Bliss (Tib. Dewa Chenpo) and Red Wisdom (Tib. Dorje Pagmo) manifested. The midpoint of the power field was a flat, circular area with an unusual triangular cave. The curriculum of the retreat was refreshingly familiar: four sessions of either the Preliminaries, 8th Karmapa Guru Yoga, the Six Yogas, or Mahamudra, depending on where one was in her development. The meditators at Lachi were women and young girls. There were also at least ten young children living there, aged 7-13, all of them starting the life of a serious Buddhist practitioner. They all aspired to become like their root lama and sometimes came from far away to join his retreat center. We were given the precious opportunity to see why.
When the time arrived for meeting the great siddha, the Rinpoche and a senior monk took us up the mountain, where we could see small huts built for the Repas. The Rinpoche told us that their teacher does not see anyone except his students on special occasions when he gives teachings. As an expert, he instructs exclusively in the Great Seal and the Six Yogas. He used to be open to see “Buddhist groups from the West” but recently stopped, disenchanted by frequent visits of students of Akong Tulku, who in his eyes “were not genuinely interested in the dharma.” We were asked not to inquire about his life, as he was completely beyond his own history. We could, however, ask him questions on the mind or meditation practice. This was the only thing he was interested in. We could also film and photograph him.
The price for interrupting his retreat would be a million purifying Om Benza Sato Hung mantras for each of us, the guide and driver included.
We climbed ever higher, up to the very top of the mountain. We could see the red building used for three-year retreats and were mesmerized by the stone which bears the paw prints of the pregnant tigress ridden by Guru Rinpoche’s powerfully protective form. Above us the stone wall of the mountain displayed caves accessible only to those who could fly. Indeed, they had been used by the great Barompa yogis of the past. For the last twenty years, the great siddha Tsultrim Tharchin lived, practiced, and taught in these surroundings.
A few more steps and there he was. He was sitting in a hut so tiny he could hardly fit in, wearing a thin white robe, his hair grayish and short. He had a handsome face and a powerful physique, looking almost Caucasian. His whole presence had an aura of something I would describe as “intense simplicity.” As a typical Westerner, I am not a great enthusiast of prostrating in front of lamas, but somehow my whole body slumped to the ground and I felt my forehead touching the ground three times in a traditional Tibetan tribute.
Tsultrim Tharchin had been a student of the yogi Karma Norbu Rinpoche, who was the 16th Karmapa’s teacher for the Six Yogas of Naropa. He had spent many years in retreat and perfected the “inner heat” or tummo, as well as the Great Seal practices. He could leave footprints in solid rock and survive with no food. Now he was sitting in front of us in his tiny cabin, working his mala and calmly gazing onto the vast expanse of the highland landscape before him.
One by one we approached him with our khatak, the customary veneration procedure on visits to lamas. Usually, a lama would first express his surprise about the white-skinned company and then take the khatak, placing it on the caller’s neck. But this astonishing master remained unaffected by our presence. His eyes were fixed on the horizon and he did not seem to be noticing us at all. We were like the clouds in his sky.
None of us managed to ask anything. I guess all the answers were already there….
The equipment we brought to document the encounter with the siddha went berserk. The movie camera only registered a few seconds, and out of the whole film we had just one picture of the yogi.
We then came down and climbed a large boulder to sit down to practice and saw him sitting outside his cave, looking at us from above. Another meeting beyond words and concepts.
For many Tibetans, Tsultrim Tharchin is supposed to be the living likeness of Milarepa—the model practitioner for solitary retreat—whose life, astonishing strength, and the complete fulfillment of the path is still inspiring for many today. However, to us practitioners from the West, it is not the outer solitude and the determination to withstand difficult conditions that impress us most. What we look for in Milarepa’s example is rather the inner severance from worldly interests and games. (Our role model for everyday life is more that of Marpa Lotsawa, Milarepa’s teacher. This yogi “lived in this world but was not of this world.” In spite of being a family man, entrepreneur, scholar, and traveler, Marpa upheld the view of the Great Seal and became fully enlightened within one lifetime.)
Afterword. A year later, during the fall of 2008, Thomas and I returned to this remote retreat center in Lachi with two new friends. This time Tsultrim Tharchin was more excited to see us, poking the air energetically with his finger and giving a triumphant “Hah!”—as if to say “I knew that you would be back!” We learned that, although he had been in retreat the year before, this year he had been asked by Saga Rinpoche, the chief lama of the nearby Kyodrak monastery, to travel, to teach, and to guide projects.
Rinpoche was very kind to us. In the first days, he was personally coming to our hut to see how we were doing and whether we needed anything, and to encourage us to ask questions. If we did want to receive any teachings from him, he insisted that we go up the mountain where his tiny meditation cave-like hut was. This was “an appropriate place” to talk about the substantial things. The single goal of his extreme way of life was full enlightenment in one lifetime. Nothing else was good enough. Throughout our stay with him, he was never convinced of our style of practice. The world seen from his cave was different from ours. He believed in the solitary quest for the ultimate achievement and then benefiting others, while we preferred “learning by doing,” i.e., performing activity for the good of others and simultaneously experiencing personal growth, as promised by the 16th Karmapa. Toward the end of our stay, heavy snow fell while we were given beautiful teachings on the importance of the teacher, the different stages of keeping awareness in meditation, and the necessity of constant training. Then it was time to go.
Maria is from Gdansk, Poland. While doing research for her doctoral dissertation in Tibetan Studies, she and some friends traveled to Kham in eastern Tibet. This article is a report and reflection on her two visits to Lachi in Tibet.
