The Lama

by Ven. Thubten Gyatso

In March 1974, two and a half weeks into my first meditation course, the word went around that Lama Yeshe was coming to talk. I, and 200 other young westerners, had been following an intense program of meditations, lectures, and discussions, during which we were not allowed to leave the grounds of Kopan monastery. That posed no particular problem. Kopan is on a ridge overlooking the entire Kathmandu valley. The view of terraced hillsides, rice paddies, and giant bamboo waving in the breeze, with the snow-covered Himalayas in the background, can be admired forever.

We had heard stories about the remarkable Lama Yeshe, but most of us had not yet seen him, and our interest was intense. While waiting his arrival in the huge tent; there was a slight disturbance as a monk slipped beneath the rear flap of the tent and, with a corner of his robes over his head, took his place amongst the western monks sitting on the ground in the front row. As time passed, the air of expectancy grew stronger; all eyes were on the main entrance when, suddenly, there was a high-pitched laugh, almost a shriek, from this tardy monk. It was Lama Yeshe. Still laughing, Lama Yeshe took his place on the teaching throne, and immediately won my admiration for his brilliant entrance that had deceived us all.

I had almost left the course several times. Karma and reincarnation did not fit my scientific world-view, and I suspected that Buddhism was just another superstitious attempt to make sense of life. Charles Darwin, physics, chemistry, and biology were good enough for me. But something had kept me there, and it was not the food. There were some interesting things the Lamas had to say about the mind - what it is and how it works. During his talk, Lama Yeshe's answers to my many questions did not resolve my problem with karma and reincarnation, but they further whetted my appetite for Buddhist psychology.

My next meeting with Lama Yeshe was in Australia, at the University of Melbourne. As Lama Yeshe arrived to give a public talk, I went to open his car door, but he reached through the window, grabbed my beard, and pulled my face down towards his. With a ferocious expression he said, "I remember you, you're the one who asked all those questions at Kopan," and once again he broke into that high-pitched laugh.

I mumbled some sort of an apology; in those twelve months I had realised karma and reincarnation did not contradict my scientific understanding. In fact, they were complementary, and I had become a Buddhist. A week later, at a five-day retreat by the seaside, in the privacy of his caravan, I said to Lama Yeshe, "I want to practise the teachings as much as I can, and there are two possibilities. The first, which I prefer, is to live with someone and practise together. The second is to become a monk."

Sitting up and wiping the tears from his eyes after laughing his beautiful laugh and rolling on the bed, Lama Yeshe became suddenly serious and said, "Possible dear, possible. You can live with a lady and both practise Dharma. But it is difficult: instead of one crazy mind, you have two crazy minds," and again he collapsed into laughter.

Defensively, I asked, "What's the advantage of becoming a monk?"

Lama Yeshe instantly replied, "You can practise twenty-four hours a day," challenging me to live up to my original statement.

Six months later, back at Kopan, after giving novice ordination to myself and ten others as monks and nuns, Lama Yeshe told us, "From now on, I am your mummy, your daddy, your boyfriend, your girlfriend. I will give you everything you need."

Lama Yeshe lived up to his promise. Apart from the 100 Tibetan and Nepalese monks at Kopan, there were 25 Western monks and nuns, and Lama was constantly supervising our formal education as well as every aspect of our lives. Observing that we were trying to live simply, as Buddhist monks and nuns are supposed to, Lama Yeshe once asked someone what Westerners usually ate for breakfast. The next morning, we discovered Lama Yeshe in our kitchen. On the table was a feast of cornflakes, fried eggs, cheese, toast, and jam.

"You must eat properly, your bodies cannot take ascetic trip," he said, and walked out.

Another time, high in the Himalayas, at the beginning of a strict meditation retreat, I was sitting on my bed looking dejectedly at the breakfast that had been brought to my room. One greasy fried vegetable. As I was thinking, "How can I possibly do retreat with such awful food?" the window to my room was pushed open and Lama Yeshe's hand came inside, holding a piece of Tibetan bread covered in Vegemite, something that Australians crave. Without saying a word, Lama gave me the bread and went away. I was never bothered by the food again (it did not improve).

In Tibet, "Lama" means virtuous friend. Not all monks are Lamas, as very few have the precious qualifications. For us pitiful beings lost in the quagmire of ignorance, such friends are as essential to following the spiritual path as is the air to remaining alive.

Gyatso

This teaching is by the Venerable Thubten Gyatso (previously Dr Adrian Feldmann), an Australian monk and old friend now working in Mongolia. One of the senior students of Lama Yeshe, Lama Zopa Rinpoche (and also Geshe Roach) he is currently teaching at the FPMT centre in Ulaan Baatar. These teachings originally appeared in his local English language newspaper in Ulaan Baatar and arereproduced with his permission.

Thanks to Diane Olander (pelmo@got.net), these teachings first appeared on the Internet on the website (www.gepeling.org) of
The Jangchub Gepel Ling Center for Tibetan Buddhist Studies,
6960 Highway 9, Felton, CA 95018, Tel: 01 (831) 335 1217
where you can find many more teachings and other interesting material.