Anyen Rinpoche
Jigme Lingpa said that if we don’t raise our understanding of the dharma to the level of personal experience, our understanding “will fall off like a patch.” This metaphor points out how even if we mend a hole on the elbow of our jacket, eventually that patch will wear out and fall off. It never becomes seamless and fully integrated. Likewise, if we leave our study of the dharma at the level of mere intellectual understanding, at some point we are going to separate from that knowledge because it hasn’t become part of us…
My Experience with Gyalgo Lama Tsepel
I’ve never been a person to go here and there seeking dharma teachings. But one day my lama told me that I should meet with Lama Tsepel, so I went. My meeting with Lama Tsepel constituted a very different kind of experience and instruction in the meaning of Parting from the Four Attachments.
As my lama wished, I traveled to the remote cave where Lama Tsepel lived; I was accompanied by Khenpo Tashi, an esteemed lama and elder from my shedra (Buddhist college). At that time, I was studying at the shedra and paid a lot of attention to being clean and neat and living in a clean and neat environment. Meeting Lama Tsepel blew my mind.
When I entered the half-built temple below his cave, I was overwhelmed by the environment he lived in. It was exactly the opposite of the kind of place I lived in. Next, I noticed how dirty he was and how uncomfortable he must be in his matted sheepskin gak (winter robe) and bearskin hat. I looked around and saw that there wasn’t anywhere to wash or bathe.
Because of how he looked and my own attachment to cleanliness, I didn’t have a strong feeling of devotion to him—the way one should when they are in the presence of a fully realized master—when I entered the room. I’m sure he sensed this. I knew I should do prostrations, so I tried, but he smacked me with his cane and told me to stop.
One strong memory I have of that experience was the evidence of his genuine contentment. Often the teachings tell us to cultivate an attitude of contentment so that we can reduce afflictive emotions such as dissatisfaction, unhappiness, jealousy, or envy. But Lama Tsepel was not cultivating contentment—he was actually content with everything. He was content with his clothing, his room, and even with the one pot he tossed literally anything into to make thukpa (soup).
He had only one wooden bowl, which I’m sure he never washed. Instead, he licked the inside of the bowl after he was done eating and wiped it dry with his clothing. After we sat down, we had a meal together. He served me a bowl of the soup that he made. It smelled horrible, and I didn’t want to eat it. In Tibet, it is not just rude but inauspicious to not eat what is served by a lama, so I forced myself to take a few bites. When I thought he wasn’t looking, I poured it onto the dirt floor.
After we ate, we entered his cave, the old mine. I found myself not wanting to sit down on the floor because it was so dirty, but I did. What happened next was truly astounding. He said to me, “Khenchen Dharmakirti must have had a reason to send you to me. I heard that you are extremely smart and good at memorizing texts. If you applied everything that you have studied, you would already be a Buddha.” I felt that he could see right through me. His words shook me hard because I knew he was right.
Lama Tsepel had received very few dharma teachings. He had received instructions on Parting from the Four Attachments from Alak Zenkar Rinpoche, and in hindsight, his very appearance was the expression of the first line: “If you are attached to this life, you are not a dharma practitioner.” He also received simple instructions on Dzogchen from Alak Zenkar Rinpoche, one or two pages that were composed by his previous incarnation, Do Khyentse Yeshe Dorje. He was content with what he had—and everything he had, he practiced and mastered completely.
Lama Tsepel went on to say, “The difficulty you have is that you haven’t applied what you have learned, so you are still wandering in samsara. Your mind is completely separate from the dharma.” His words made a tremendous impact. Often when I teach the dharma now, I reflect on Lama Tsepel’s words—his advice seems to be the advice that is most needed in the modern world, to be heard and practiced by modern dharma practitioners. Thinking back, it is incredible that this lama, who seemed to have so little knowledge to impart, gave me some of the most profound teachings I have ever received.
Next, he opened his few pecha (text) pages, which I later learned contained Parting from the Four Attachments and a few pieces of advice he had received. The pages were old and worn, and dirty smudges had mostly covered up the words so they could no longer be read. He said to me, “I received pointing-out instructions and Parting from the Four Attachments from Alak Zenkar Rinpoche, and because I trained my mind and applied the meaning of these teachings completely, my lifespan and my accomplishment are equal.” This is an expression we use in Tibet—it means that the practitioner’s realization and accomplishment increases day by day, so the measure of life will equal the measure of realization.
Then he read through the four lines written by Sakya Drakpa Gyaltsen and gave his version of a teaching on it. First, he read, “If you are attached to this life, you are not a dharma practitioner.” He didn’t say much, but he said to me forcefully, “Do you know what that means? Have you understood it?” He didn’t give any commentary on the words, he just said, “If you have attachment to this life, you’d better get rid of it! Understand?” My own lama’s commentary on this verse... is so profound and eloquent. But I can’t say that Lama Tsepel’s commentary was any less powerful, though he expressed it in only a few words.
Next, he read, “If you are attached to samsara, you do not have renunciation.” He didn’t explain what renunciation is, the way a scholar would when giving the same teaching. He simply asked me in his gruff voice, “Do you have renunciation? You are a lama and an ordained monk. Without renunciation you aren’t even keeping your vows.” Then he said, “I don’t have any grasping or attachment to samsara.” The difference between us was striking, and where I thought I looked like a dharma practitioner when I entered the cave, I realized now that he was the authentic yogi.
Then he said, “If you have self-interest, you do not have bodhicitta.” He asked me, “Haven’t you taken the bodhisattva vow? But isn’t your only thought how to benefit yourself? If that’s true, how can you train in bodhicitta and practice the bodhisattva path?”
Finally, he said, “If there is any grasping present, it is not the view.” He asked Khenpo Tashi, “Tashi, what does that mean? Have you understood it? Have you understood it?” It was obvious from Lama Tsepel’s presence, words, and conduct that he had thoroughly understood the meaning of this line and had completely realized the Atiyoga Dzogchen view.
When he completed this round of teaching, he reread the verse nine or ten times, and at the end he said, “Apply the dharma and make it inseparable with your own mind. No matter how long and hard you study, you will never find more profound instructions in the entirety of the teachings.” And I could see myself for the first time—a young lama and scholar in training who was spending all my time receiving dharma teachings but not really applying the meaning of the dharma to myself.
This idea was expressed in Patrul Rinpoche’s Collection of Heart Advice when he said, “If conduct is entangled with the world, there is no benefit.”
In other words, when we just study the dharma but don’t apply it and use it to cut through our attachment to ourselves and the beings and world around us, our actions won’t bear fruit. The efforts we make with body, speech, and mind won’t be purposeful at all—our afflictive emotions won’t decrease, and we won’t experience any relief from suffering; our self-attachment won’t decrease, and we won’t experience any increase in our compassion and care for others.
So even though it may look like we are fully devoting ourselves to spiritual practice, our efforts just reinforce the mental and emotional habits we already have and further entangle us with worldly life.
Also in this collection, Patrul Rinpoche said, “If contemplation is entangled with confusion, there is no benefit.” If the mind doesn’t follow the dharma but just remains confused and overpowered by ignorance, then what is the point of studying the dharma?
Even if we understand the meaning of the dharma, if we don’t apply it correctly and with discipline, but allow ourselves to remain confused—for example, because applying the actual meaning of the dharma is difficult—no change will occur. Our own mind is just going to remain the same as it is now, and our efforts at contemplation will bear no fruit.
When I returned to the shedra and arrived in front of my lama’s tiny retreat house, he opened his window and asked excitedly, “Son, come here! How was it? What happened? What did Lama Tsepel say?” I recounted the whole story tearfully to my lama. He nodded with approval: “Very good, very good. The effort of sending you to see Lama Tsepel was worth it. In the future, don’t forget this experience—a genuine practitioner of the dharma is just like Lama Tsepel.” Lama Tsepel’s words and teaching continue to impact me to this very day.
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More description about Lama Tsepel
Lama Tsepel…was a Khampa in every sense of the word. He was a nomadic
practitioner who didn’t even start studying the dharma until he was
thirty-seven years old. Due to his deep renunciation and devotion, he received
pointing-out instructions on Atiyoga Dzogchen from the renowned Longchen
Nyingthig master the first Alak Zenkar Rinpoche, who wore the white robes of
a Tantric practitioner. The first Alak Zenkar Rinpoche and his
present living reincarnation, as well as Do Khyentse Yeshe Dorje in the
nineteenth century, are recognized as reincarnations of Jigme Lingpa.
In comparison to my root Lama, Lama Tsepel’s study of the dharma was very
brief. Where my Lama had spent over twenty years at Shri Singha Shedra and his
retreat room was filled with volumes upon volumes of philosophical texts, Lama
Tsepel had only received the teachings contained on a few pieces of paper.
These pages weren’t wrapped in beautiful red silk like texts at my Lama’s
shedra. They were covered in dirt from the cave where Lama Tsepel lived.
Lama Tsepel was dirty from head to foot. He looked as though he hadn’t bathed
for a long time. He had long, thick fingernails that he didn’t cut, and he
lived in a tiny dug-out cave in Gyalgo, an area of Tibet. It wasn’t a natural
cave but rather a hole in the mountain that had been used to mine gold. His
room was cramped, just large enough for him to sit in meditation or sleep. It
had a tiny makeshift shrine and a musty, unclean smell that made it unpleasant
to enter. Once inside, it was difficult to sit comfortably and relax.
You may not ever have met this kind of yogi before. He was a true chattral, a possessionless yogi, who had entered into lifelong retreat directly after receiving teachings from Alak Zenkar Rinpoche. Often in Tibet, this kind of retreatant is named after the place where they remain in retreat because they become a fixture of the place, just like the rocks, trees, and water. He was called Gyalgo Lama Tsepel because he never once left Gyalgo after he entered his lifelong retreat.
You may be wondering how two such masters (my Lama and Lama Tsepel), who were
educated so differently and lived so differently, became close dharma friends.
My Lama said it was due to their deep realization of the Longchen Nyingthig
lineage that they held such great respect and affection for each other.
