How it all started..................... (The meeting with the Root Guru is the greatest blessing one can ever ask) It was 19 June 97, 4 am in the morning. I was to accompany my friend, Mary, to the airport to receive a Rinpoche, by the name of Lopon Tsechu. He was flying, as I heard, from Kathmandu to Singapore, at the invitation of the local Karma Kagyud centre, to give a series of teachings and empowerments. Initially I was reluctant to go; I had neither seen nor heard of this Rinpoche, and wasn’t particularly happy when I had to sacrifice my sleep. However, “saying no to ladies” was somewhat difficult, and perhaps too, trying to accommodate requests and composure were parts of family training. One wouldn’t allow whatever might be raging inside, for example, to reveal itself to the whole world. Only the eyes, the little windows to my soul, can betray me to those who know me very well. In fact, there are not many who know me very well. 4.30 a.m. - Rain had begun in earnest since the previous evening and there was no sign of ceasing. Rain was flooding the entire city with an iridescent eerie gleam. It beat upon the windshield, the vipers, madly sweeping, could barely keep up with it. I close my eyes momentarily when I heard the low growl of thunder in the distance. I peered out of the window into the night and saw the wind spinning crazily through the trees, whipping furiously and baring the pale undersides of the leaves. “How these trees must have hated them (storms),” I was thinking. A sudden crack of thunder exploded above our heads, and Mary let out a cry. The lightning grew fiercer, surrounding everything with arrhythmic splashes of white light, and the thunder settled into a constant, deep-throated grumbling. In the next zap of lightning, the buildings, trees were abruptly altered, washed in silver, as if transformed into something new – the way I was transformed when I saw Rinpoche for the first time, somebody so dynamic, so astonishingly intriguing which took my breath away, leaving me grasping to compose myself. 4.45 a.m. - The airport control tower was rapidly visible and it resembled like a beacon, shining brightly to ships out at sea. The rain which had been pouring before, had dwindled to a fine mist and the quiet road was almost deserted. I opened the window and inhaled deeply – the car was moving in the path of a breeze sweet with the fragrance of wet grass. 5.15 a.m. - The plane’s arrival was vexedly behind schedule and patience was running thin. I sat down, trying to concentrate on some airport tourist brochures that I had casually picked up, and not succeeding, gazed out into the void above the huge arrival hall. The legs were crossed at the ankles, rested upon a steeple made with my fingers. Thoughts were so wild and jumbled that one couldn’t put them into words. Spinning, trepidation, exclamations. It wasn’t until a tingling sensation was coursing through the legs that I realized that I hadn’t moved for almost half an hour. I got up and paced the hall. The legs ached from sitting. Hysterious glands began secreting their potent juices into my bloodstream, making me extremely jittery, as if a palpable enthusiasm was hanging in the air. I shifted about the hall like an agitated molecule, speaking in short bursts, “where on earth is the plane? Is it ever coming?” Self-apprehension was impossible at that moment – there was definitely something, one immense feeling churning violently within, one that seem defy intelligence and reason. It was this eerie, irrational, yet thoroughly wonderful feeling, no matter how hard one tried, that couldn’t be shaken off. My heartbeat began to quicken as seconds passed. Abruptly, there came a tremendous pressure in my chest; it expanded to fill and surge into my neck, burst and roared into my head. And at last, I knew it for what it was: I realized, for the first ever time in my life, a beatific transformation was taking place from within. “Please, Rinpoche,” the three doors (body, speech mind) begged, “You must come.” 5.25 a.m. - Announcing the arrival of Royal Nepal…” I opened my mouth to let out cries of jubilation, but they wouldn’t come. The pocket of ecstasy had become a cavern by that time. It was only 30 minutes later that Rinpoche and his entourage had appeared. The heart was knocking rapidly against the chest; the eyes darted and searched earnestly for Rinpoche, and behold, there He was! I just stopped and stared. I pressed my palm to my mouth – I was struck by a shaft of light that dazzled the brain, while at the same time, I was aware of what was happening. An epiphany, like the conversations one heard about, the miracles of being touched by divinity and ancient revelations. Rinpoche was there in the midst of the bustling and noisy crowd. People and the surroundings began to blur and fade into oblivion, leaving Rinpoche and myself in the picture. Therewith, I noticed Rinpoche was sitting on a wheelchair – my heart, aching, went straight to Him. It had pained my own heart, and I felt a deep sense of despondency, knowing that no one is ever spared from the eventual vicissitudes of old age. Already and instantaneously, I felt connected to Rinpoche by a network of thoughts, which seemed to trace way beyond anything mentally fabricated. Mary stole a look at me and saw the sheen of tears in the eyes. “Excuse me, but,” she said, “are you alright?” I nodded my head ceaselessly. It was all I had the strength to do. Weak in the knees from the boggle, I approached Rinpoche to offer Him a khata. Happiness that has been gnawing at the edges of my heart had grown exceedingly overwhelming. The day was now completely transformed – where before there had been a lazy, leisure quality to the air, there was now a quality of urgent rush, as if time was pressing – a thousand changes to be made, so many things to be done, so many words to be spoken to Rinpoche, all at once. It was like closely-related people, separated for a long time, had many, many things to tell each other. Questions, words, anxiety. Only until I almost tripped from stepping on the tail ends of the khata did I realize that I had been rushing towards Him. 6.00 a.m. - The morning sky was a vivid pinkish violet-blue, broken by an irregular line of golden as the new sun revealed itself. The air was filled with birdsong. Across the airport carpark, two butterflies danced in a fantastic and orange swirl of chase and avoidance. I was very, very glad that I had come. Then as we rode along, on our way back to the centre, the sun made a stupendous leap; upwards it soared, pierced the clouds through with its bolts of light and scattered its diamond spangles through the dark undersides of trees and undergrowth. “Look Mary!” I said excitedly and pointed. “Look! It’s the new sunrise.” Epilogue On 23 June 97, with the Rinpoche’s blessings, I took refuge under Vajradhara Lopon Tsechu Rinpoche and was bestowed a Dharma name Karma Tamcho Rinchen (Dharma Jewel). Rinpoche has given me more than a name. Each time I flipped through the photographs, I would plunge into that long-ago day, 19 June 97, and its events. Truly, it was one of my happiest day of my ordinary life. I saw myself, with a glowing face, standing next to Rinpoche. One of my greatest blessings would be able to replay the sequence of events of 19 June 97 in my mind again and again till my very last mortal breath, just like the repetition of Om Mani Padme Hum mantra, the rise and eventual dissolution of everything into ultimate bliss. Without the shadow of a doubt, Rinpoche was the root guru that I have been searching for. When He admitted me as his disciple, it was as if He’d given me the stars and moon. I know clearly I wasn’t made to shine or sparkle, yet I feel I’m so rich in happiness and His blessings that can sustain me forever. In the ancient texts, when the sweet dew of guru’s blessings permeates in the parched earth and nourishes the shriveled body and mind of the student, it is said so magical that the student’s perception of the external phenomenon transforms to everything intrinsically beautiful and pure, as if bestowed a pair of a mystical spectacles to wear where suffering is coloured into naked bliss, and dust is seen as gold particles. I felt the gathering of a smile, this in nostalgic recollection of that momentous day. Gazing at the space above me, I felt a deep peace glowing from within. On my birthday, Rinpoche, if you can hear this, your student misses you very badly.
Posted on: Sat, 20 Dec 2014 11:38:55 +0000
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