The Defects of Samsara
From Words of My Perfect Teacher:
Chapter 3
The Defects of Samsara
Understanding that samsaric activities are empty of meaning,
With great compassion, you strive only for the benefit of others.
Without attachment to samsara or nirvana, you act according to the Great Vehicle.
Peerless Teacher, at your feet I bow.
Listen to this chapter with the same attitude as you did the previous ones. It comprises a general reflection on the sufferings of samsara and reflections on the particular sufferings of each of the six realms of being.
I. THE SUFFERINGS OF SAMSARA IN GENERAL
As I have pointed out already, we may now have a life endowed with the freedoms and advantages which are so difficult to find, but it will not last for long. We will soon fall under the power of impermanence and death. If after that we just disappeared like a fire burning out or water evaporating, everything would be over. But after death we do not vanish into nothing. We are forced to take a new birth-which means that we will still be in samsara, and nowhere else.
The term samsara, the wheel or round of existence, is used here to mean going round and round from one place to another in a circle, like a potter’s wheel, or the wheel of a water mill. When a fly is trapped in a closed jar, no matter where it flies it cannot get out. Likewise, whether we are born in the higher or lower realms, we are never outside samsara.
The upper part of the jar is like the higher realms of gods and men, and the lower part like the three unfortunate realms. It is said that samsara is a circle because we turn round and round, taking rebirth in one after another of the six realms as a result of our own actions which, whether positive or negative, are tainted by clinging.
We have been wandering since beginningless time in these samsaric worlds in which every being, without exception, has had relations of affection, enmity and indifference with every other being. Everyone has been everyone else’s father and mother. In the siitras it is said that if you wished to count back the generations of mothers in your family, saying, “She was my mother’s mother; her mother was so and so…” and so on, using little pellets of earth as big as a juniper berry to count them, the whole earth would be used up before you had counted them all. As Lord Nagarjuna says:
We would run out of earth trying to count our mothers
With balls of clay the size of juniper berries.
There is not a single form of life that we have not taken throughout beginningless samsara until now. Our desires have led us innumerable times to have our head and limbs cut off. Were we to try to pile up in one place all the limbs we have lost when we were ants and other small insects, the pile would be higher than Mount Meru. The tears we have wept from cold, hunger and thirst when we were without food and clothing, had they not all dried up, would make an ocean larger than all the great oceans surrounding the world. Even the amount of molten copper we have swallowed in the hells would be vaster than the four great oceans. Yet all beings bound to the realms of samsara by their desire and attachments, with never an instant’s remorse, will have to undergo still more sufferings in this endless circle.
Even were we able, through the fortunate result of some virtuous action, to obtain the long life, perfect body, wealth and glory of Indra or Brahma, in the end we would still not be able to postpone death; and after death we would again have to experience the sufferings of the lower realms. In this present life, what little advantages of power, wealth, good health and other things we enjoy might fool us for a few years, months, or days. But once the effect of whatever good actions caused these happy states is exhausted, whether we want to or not, we will have to undergo poverty and misery or the unbearable sufferings of the lower realms.
What meaning is there in that kind of happiness? It is like a dream that just stops in the middle when you wake up. Those who, as the result of some slight positive action, seem to be happy and comfortable at the moment, will not be able to hold on to that state for an instant longer once the effect of that action runs out. The kings of the gods, seated high on their thrones of precious jewels spread with divine silks, enjoy all the pleasures of the five senses. But, once their lifespan is exhausted, in the twinkling of an eye they are plunged into suffering and fall headlong down to the scorching metal ground of hell. Even the gods of the sun and moon,* who light up the four continents, can end up being reborn somewhere between those very continents, in darkness so deep that they cannot see whether their own limbs are stretched out or bent in.
(*These celestial bodies are traditionally considered the dwellings of certain celestial beings, invisible to ordinary humans.)
So do not put your trust in the apparent joys of samsara. Resolve that, in this very life, you will free yourself from the great ocean of its sufferings and attain the true and constant happiness of perfect Buddhahood. Make this thought your practice, using the proper methods for the beginning, the main part and the conclusion.
II. THE PARTICULAR SUFFERINGS EXPERIENCED BY THE BEINGS OF THE SIX REALMS
1. The eighteen hells
1.1 THE EIGHT HOT HELLS
These eight hells lie one above the other like the storeys of a building, from the Reviving Hell on top, down to The Hell of Ultimate Torment at the bottom. In each the ground and perimeter are like the white-hot iron of a smith – there is nowhere at all where you could safely put your foot. Everything is a searingly hot expanse of blazing, fiery flame.
1.1.1 The Reviving Hell
Here, amidst the burning embers that cover the incandescent metal ground, beings as numerous as the snowflakes of a blizzard are gathered together by the force of their actions. As the actions which drove them there were motivated by hatred, the effect similar to the cause makes them see each other as mortal enemies, and furiously they fight. Brandishing inconceivable weapons – a phantom armoury created by their karma they strike at each other until everyone is slain. At that time, a voice from the sky says, “Revive!” and they immediately come back to life and start fighting all over again. And so they suffer, continually dying and being revived.
How long do they live there? Fifty human years equal one day in the god realm of the Four Great Kings. Thirty of those days make a month, and twelve months make a year; five hundred such years equal one day in the Reviving Hell, where again, twelve months, each of thirty days, make up a year. They suffer there for five hundred of those years.
1.1.2 The Black-Line Hell
Here Yama’s henchmen lay their victims out on the ground of burning metal like so many firebrands and cross-rule their bodies with black lines-four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two and so on-which they use as guidelines to cut them up with burning saws. No sooner have their bodies been cut into pieces than they immediately become whole once more, only to be hacked apart and chopped up over and over again.
As for the length of their life there, a hundred human years correspond to one day for the gods in the Heaven of the Thirty-three, and a thousand years in the Heaven of the Thirty-three is equal to one day in this hell. On that scale, beings there live for a thousand years.
1.1.3 The Rounding-Up and Crushing Hell
In this hell, beings by the million are thrown into vast mortars of iron the size of whole valleys. The henchmen of Yama, the Lord of Death, whirling huge hammers of red-hot metal as big as Mount Meru around their heads, pound their victims with them. These beings are crushed to death, screaming and weeping in unimaginable agony and terror. As the hammers are lifted, they come back to life, only to suffer the same torments over and over again.
Sometimes, the mountains on both sides of the valley turn into the heads of stags, deer, goats, rams and other animals that the hell-beings have killed in their past lives. The beasts butt against each other with their horn-tips spewing fire, and innumerable hell beings, drawn there by the power of their actions, are all crushed to death. Then, once more, as the mountains separate, they revive only to be crushed again.
Two hundred human years are equivalent to one day for the gods of the Heaven Without Fighting. Two thousand years in that realm correspond to one day in the Rounding-Up and Crushing Hell, and the beings in that hell live two thousand years.
1.1.4 The Howling Hell
Here, beings suffer by being roasted in buildings of red hot metal with no exit. They scream and cry, feeling that they will never escape.
Four hundred human years equal one day in the Joyous Realm. Four thousand years in that heaven are equivalent to one day in the Howling Hell, where life continues for four thousand years.
1.1.5 The Great Howling Hell
A vast host of Yama’s henchmen, armed and terrifying, shove victims by the million into metal sheds with double walls blazing with fire, and beat them with hammers and other weapons. Both the inner and outer doors are sealed with molten metal and the hell-beings howl in torment to think that, even if they could get past the first door, they would never be able to get through the second.
Eight hundred human years correspond to one day in the Paradise of Joyful Magic. Eight thousand years there equal one day in the Great Howling Hell. Its beings have a lifespan of eight thousand years.
1.1.6 The Heating Hell
Here, countless beings suffer by being cooked in huge iron cauldrons the size of the whole cosmos of a billion worlds, where they boil in molten bronze. Whenever they surface, they are grabbed by the workers with metal hooks and beaten about the head with hammers, sometimes losing consciousness; their idea of happiness is these rare moments when they no longer feel pain. Otherwise, they continually experience immense suffering.
Sixteen hundred human years equal one day among the gods Enjoying the Emanations of Others. Sixteen thousand years of these gods correspond to one day in the Heating Hell, and beings stay there sixteen thousand of those years.
1.1.7 The Intense Heating Hell
The beings in this hell are trapped inside blazing metal houses, and Yama’s henchmen impale them through the heels and the anus with tridents of red-hot iron, until the prongs push out through the shoulders and the crown of the head. At the same time their bodies are wrapped in sheets of blazing metal. What pain they suffer! This continues for half an intermediate kalpa, a period of time immeasurable in terms of human years.
1.1.8 The Hell of Ultimate Torment
This is an immense edifice of blazing hot metal, surrounded by the sixteen Neighbouring Hells. In it Yarna’s henchmen toss incalculable numbers of beings into the centre of a mountain of pieces of red-hot iron, glowing like live coals. They whip up the flames with bellows of tiger and leopard-skin until the bodies of their victims and the fire become indistinguishable. Their suffering is tremendous. Apart from the cries of distress, there is no longer any indication of the presence of actual bodies. They constantly long to escape, but it never happens. Sometimes there is a small gap in the fire and they think they can get out, but the workers hit them with spears, clubs, hammers and other weapons and they are subjected to all the agonies of the seven previous hells, such as having molten bronze poured into their mouths.
Lifespan here is a whole intermediate kalpa. It is called the Hell of Ultimate Torment because there could be no worse torment elsewhere. It is the hell where those who have committed the five crimes with immediate retribution, and practitioners of the Mantrayana who develop adverse views regarding the Vajra Master, are reborn. No other actions have the power to cause rebirth here.
1.1.9 The Neighbouring Hells
Around the Hell of Ultimate Torment, in each of the four cardinal directions, there is a ditch of flaming embers, a marsh of rotting corpses, a plain of bristling weapons and a forest of trees with razor-edged leaves. There is one of each in the north, south, east and west, making sixteen in all. In each of the intermediate directions-the southeast, southwest, northwest and northeast-stands a hill of iron salmali trees.
The pit of hot embers. When beings have purged most of the effect of actions connected with the Hell of Ultimate Torment and emerge from it, they see, far away in the distance, what looks like a shady trench. They leap into it with delight, only to find themselves sinking down into a pit of blazing embers which burn their flesh and bones.
The swamp of putrescent corpses. Then they see a river. Having been roasted in a brazier for a whole kalpa, they are so thirsty that seeing water fills them with joy and they rush towards it to quench their thirst. But of course there is no water. There is nothing but corpses-corpses of men, corpses of horses, corpses of dogs-all decomposing and crawling with insects as they decompose, giving off the foulest of stenches. They sink into this mire until their heads go under, while worms with iron beaks devour them.
The plain of razors. When they emerge from this swamp, they are thrilled to see a pleasant green plain. But when they get there they find that it is bristling with weapons. The whole ground is covered with slender blades of burning hot metal growing like grass, which pierce their feet with each step. Each foot heals as they lift it-only to be excruciatingly stabbed again as soon as they put it down.
The forest of swords. Once again free, they rejoice to see a beautiful forest and rush towards it. But when they get there, there is no beautiful forest. It turns out to be a thicket whose trees have swords growing on their metal branches instead of leaves. As they stir in the wind, the swords cut those beings’ bodies into little pieces. Their bodies reconstitute themselves and are chopped up over and over again.
The hill of iron salmali trees. It is here that loose monks and nuns who have broken their vows of chastity and people who give themselves over to sexual misconduct are reborn. The effect of such actions brings them to the foot of the terrifying hill of iron salmali trees. At the top they can see their former lovers calling them. As they climb eagerly up to join them, all the leaves of the iron trees point downwards and pierce their flesh. When they reach the top, they find ravens, vultures, and the like that dig out their eyes to suck up the fat. Again they see their friends calling them, now from the foot of the hill. Down they go, and the leaves turn upward, stabbing them through the chest again and again. Once they get down to the ground, hideous metallic men and women embrace them, biting off their heads and chewing them until the brains trickle out of the corners of their mouths. Such are the torments experienced here.
Absorb all the details of the pains of the eight hot hells, the sixteen neighbouring and supplementary hells and the hills of iron salmali trees. Withdrawing to a quiet place, close your eyes and imagine that you are really living in the infernal realms. When you feel as much terror and pain as you would if you were really there, arouse the following thought in your mind:
“I feel such intense terror and suffering when I just imagine all that pain, even though I am not actually there. There are countless beings living in those realms right now, and all of them have been my parents in past lives. There is no knowing whether my parents, loved ones and friends of this life will not be reborn there once they die. Rebirth in those realms is caused primarily by actions arising from hatred, and I myself have accumulated an incalculable number of such actions in this present life as well as in all my past lives. I can be certain that I myself will be reborn in those hells sooner or later.
“At present, I have a human life complete with all the freedoms and advantages. I have met an authentic spiritual teacher and received the profound instructions which offer the possibility of attaining the level of the Buddha. So I must do my best to practise the methods that will save me from ever having to be born in those lower realms again.”
Over and over again, reflect like this on the suffering of the hells. Confess your past misdeeds with intense remorse and make the unshakeable resolve that, even at the risk of your life, you will never again commit acts which lead to birth in the hell realms. With immense compassion for the beings who are there now, pray that they may all be freed from the lower realms this very instant. Put the teaching into practice, complete with the methods for the beginning, the main part and the conclusion.
1.2 THE EIGHT COLD HELLS
In all these hells, the environment is entirely composed of snow mountains and glaciers, perpetually enveloped in snowy blizzards.
The beings there, all completely naked, are tormented by the cold. In the Hell of Blisters, the cold makes blisters erupt on their bodies. In the Hell of Burst Blisters, the blisters burst open. In the Hell of Clenched Teeth, the biting cold is intolerable and the teeth of the beings there are tightly clenched. In the Hell of Lamentations, their lamenting never ends. In the Hell of Groans their voices are cracked and long groans escape from their lips. In the Hell of Utpala-like Cracks, their skin turns blue and splits into four petal-like pieces. In the Hell of Lotus-like Cracks, their red raw flesh becomes visible, and the cold makes it split into eight pieces. Lastly, in the Hell of Great Lotus-like Cracks, their flesh turns dark red and splits into sixteen, thirty-two and then into innumerable pieces. Worms penetrate the cracked flesh and devour it with their metal beaks. The names of these eight hells derive from the different sufferings that beings endure in them.
As for the lifespan in these cold hells, imagine a container that could hold two hundred Kosala measures,* filled with sesame seeds. Life in the Blistering Hell lasts as long as it would take to empty that container by removing a single grain every hundred years.
[*An ancient measure named after the Indian city of Kosala (near modern Ayodhya).]
For the other cold hells, lifespan and sufferings increase by multiples of twenty for each one. Life thus lasts twenty times longer in the Hell of Burst Blisters than in the Blistering Hell; twenty times longer than that in the Hell of Clenched Teeth; and so on.
Take these sufferings upon yourself mentally, and meditate on them in the same way as for the hot hells. Think how unbearably cold it feels to stand naked in the winter wind even for an instant in this present human world. How could you stand it if you were reborn in those realms? Confess your faults and promise never to commit them again. Then develop compassion for the beings actually living in those worlds. Practise as before, employing each of the methods for the beginning, main practice and conclusion.
1.3 THE EPHEMERAL HELLS
The ephemeral hells exist in all sorts of different locations and the sufferings experienced in them also vary considerably. Beings may be crushed between rocks, or trapped inside a stone, frozen in ice, cooked in boiling water or burnt in fires. Some feel that, when someone is cutting a tree, they are the tree having their limbs chopped off. Some suffer through identifying their bodies with objects that are constantly put to use, such as mortars, brooms, pans, doors, pillars, hobs and ropes.
Examples of stories about these hells are the accounts of the fish seen by Lingje Repa in Yamdrok Lake and the frog that the siddha Tangtong Gyalpo found inside a stone.
Yutso Ngonmo, the Blue Turquoise Lake, appeared while the dakini Yeshe Tsogyal was meditating in Yamdrok, when a piece of pure gold thrown by a Bonpo was transformed into water. It is one of the four famous lakes of Tibet, and is so long that to get from its head at Lung Kangchen to where it ends at Zemaguru is a walk of several days. One day the great siddha Lingje Repa was looking into this lake, when he started to weep, exclaiming, “Poor thing! Don’t misuse offerings! Don’t misuse offerings!”*
(*Usually means using funds donated by the faithful, with the particular sense of using them improperly. Sometimes it refers to the abuse of collective possessions, such as the wealth of a nation, by those in a position of power.)
When the people who were with him asked him to explain, he said, “The consciousness of a lama who misused offerings has been reborn in an ephemeral hell in this lake, and is suffering terribly.”
They wanted to see, so the siddha miraculously dried up the lake in an instant, revealing a huge fish so big that its body spanned the lake’s entire length and breadth. It was squirming in agony because it was completely covered with small creatures that were eating it alive. Lingje Repa’s attendants asked him who it was that had such evil karma, and he replied that it was Tsangla Tanakchen, the Black Horse Lama from Tsang. He was a lama whose speech had had great power and blessing.* A mere glance from him was enough to cure someone troubled by spirits. For this reason he was highly venerated in the four provinces of U and Tsang. But when he performed the transference of consciousness at funeral ceremonies, for each “P’et!”** he uttered he would take as payment a large number of the horses and cattle belonging to the deceased.
(*Here speech refers to the subtle power of speech. It is the vehicle for the sound of mantras and can have a power to heal, pacify, subjugate etc., when employed by one who has a certain spiritual training or a particular kind of karma.)
(**One use of the syllable P’et is to project the consciousness in the practice of transference.)
One day the siddha Tangtong Gyalpo was practising the yoga exercises of the channels and energies on a big rock. The rock split in two. Inside there was a huge frog. Innumerable small creatures had attached themselves to it and were eating it alive, making it open and close its black mouth in unbearable pain. When his companions asked why this had come about, Tangtong Gyalpo explained that the being who had been reborn in that form had been a priest who sacrificed animals.
Look at the lamas of today! Each time a patron kills a nice fat sheep and cooks up the gullet, kidneys and other organs along with the meat and blood, serving it piled up with the still quivering ribs of a yak, our lamas pull the shawl of their robes over their heads and suck away at the entrails like babies at their mother’s breast. Then they cut themselves slices of the outer meat with their knives and munch them in a leisurely fashion. Once they have finished, their heads emerge again, hot and steaming. Their mouths gleam with grease and their whiskers have acquired a reddish tinge. But they will have a big problem in their next life, in one of the ephemeral hells, when they have to pay back with their own bodies all that they have eaten so many times in this life.
Once Palden Chokyong, High Abbot of Ngor, was at Derge. He posted many monks along the banks of the River Ngulda, commanding them to let nothing pass by. Towards evening, they saw a big tree-trunk floating on the water, so they hauled it in to the bank and took it to the Abbot, telling him that they had seen nothing else.
“That must be it,” he said. “Split it open.”
Inside they found a big frog being eaten alive by a mass of insects. After doing a purification ritual, the Abbot said that the frog had been a treasurer of Derge named Pogye. Today they might seem all-powerful, but all those chiefs and high dignitaries who dip into the public purse should think about the ephemeral hells and be careful.
At the time of the Buddha, there was a village butcher who made a vow never to kill animals at night. He was reborn in an ephemeral hell. At night his pleasure knew no bounds. He lived in a beautiful mansion, with four lovely women plying him with food and drink and other pleasures. During the day, however, the walls of the house would transform into blazing hot metal and the four women into terrifying brown dogs who fed on his body.
Long ago, Srona saw an adulterer who had vowed to keep from infidelity during the day. In contrast to the butcher, he suffered only during the night.
There was once a delightful monastery, housing about five hundred monks. When the bell rang around midday and the monks gathered to eat, the monastery would turn into a house of burning metal. The monks’ begging bowls, cups and so forth would change into weapons and the monks would beat each other with them. Once the lunch-hour had ended, they would separate and take their places again. In the days of Buddha Kasyapa, many monks had argued at the time of the midday meal, and this was the fully ripened effect.
These eight hot hells, eight cold hells, the neighbouring hells and the ephemeral hells are together called the eighteen hell realms. Carefully study their number, the length of time spent in them, their sufferings and the causes of being reborn there, and meditate with compassion on the beings born in them. Strive to ensure that no one, neither yourself nor anyone else, is ever reborn in those realms.
If you are content just to listen and know all this intellectually, without making it a living experience, you will just become one of those obdurate and arrogant practitioners criticized by sublime beings and condemned by the wise.
There was once a monk whose conduct was exemplary but whose pride was enormous. He came to visit Shang Rinpoche, who asked him what Dharma he knew.
“I have listened to many teachings,” replied the monk.
“Then tell me the names of the eighteen hells,” said Shang Rinpoche.
“The eight hot hells and the eight cold hells… that makes sixteen… and eighteen if you add the Black and Red Hat Karmapas.”
It was not lack of respect that caused him to count the Karmapa Lamas with the hells. He had simply forgotten the names of the ephemeral hells and neighbouring hells, and since the Red and Black Hat Karmapas were very well known at the time, impulsively he put them in. Now, whether or not you have practised the teachings you have received is one thing, but not to know at least the words and terms involved is truly shameful.
2. The pretas
There are two sorts of preta: those who live collectively and those who move through space.
2.1 PRETAS WHO LIVE COLLECTIVELY
These pretas suffer from external, internal or specific obscurations.
2.1.1 Pretas suffering from external obscurations
These pretas are tormented by extreme hunger and thirst. Centuries pass without their even hearing any mention of water. Constantly obsessed with food and drink, they search for them endlessly, without ever finding even the tiniest trace. From time to time, far away, they catch sight of a stream of clear, pure water. But their joints are too fragile to take the weight of their bellies. They get there only with great pain and arrive utterly exhausted-only to suffer even more when they find that the water has completely dried up, leaving nothing but the stony river bed.
Sometimes they see an orchard of fruit trees in the distance. As before, they approach, but when they arrive they find that the huge trees are all dried up and withered. Sometimes they see an abundance of food and drink and other pleasant things, but when they get near they find that it is guarded by a large number of armed men who chase and beat them with their weapons, causing them great pain.
In summer, even the moonlight feels hot and burns them; in winter, even the sun feels icy cold. These sensations torture them terribly.
Once, when Srona was in the land of the pretas, he found their avarice so poisonous that it gave him a fever and his mouth became completely dry. He came across an iron castle at whose door stood a terrifying sombre figure with red eyes.
“Where is there some water?” Srona asked.
At these words, a crowd of pretas, all looking like lumps of burnt wood, came milling around him, begging, “Great perfect being, give us water!”
“I have found none myself,” answered he. “It is for you to give me some.”
“What do you mean?” replied the pretas. “We were born in this land twelve years ago and until today we have never even heard as much as a mention of water.”
2.1.2 Pretas suffering from internal obscurations
These pretas have mouths no bigger than the eye of a needle. Even were they to drink all the water in the great oceans, by the time it had passed down their throats, which are as narrow as a horse-hair, the heat of their breath would have evaporated it. Even were they somehow to swallow a little, their stomachs, which are the size of a whole country, could never be filled. Even if-finally-enough to satisfy them were ever to get into their stomach, it would burst into flames during the night and burn their lungs, their heart, and all their entrails. When they want to move, they cannot lift their gigantic bellies with their grass-like limbs, and this causes them immense suffering.
2.1.3 Pretas suffering from specific obscurations
These pretas have all sorts of different experiences that vary from one to another and are of varying intensity. For example, some have many creatures living on their bodies and devouring them.
Once when he was travelling in the land of the pretas, Srona came to a palace where he met a beautiful woman. Exquisitely formed and bedecked with precious jewels, she was ravishing to behold. To each of the four legs of her throne a preta was tied. She offered Srona something to eat, warning him not to give the smallest scrap to the other pretas even if they begged for it. When Srona started to eat they began to beg. He gave some food to one of them and it turned into chaff; what he gave to the second turned into a lump of iron; the third started to eat his own flesh, and what he gave to the fourth became pus and blood.
When the woman came back, she cried, “Didn’t I tell you not to give them anything! Do you think that you are more compassionate than I am?”
“What is the connection between you and these four?” Srona asked her.
“This was my husband; that one was my son, that was my daughter-in law, and the fourth was my servant.”
“What past actions have brought you here?”
“The people of Jambudvipa are too sceptical,” the woman replied.
“You will never believe me.”
“How could I not believe you, when I am seeing this with my very own eyes?”
So the woman told Srona her story. “I was a brahmin woman in a village. One evening, I had prepared some delicious food because it was an auspicious day. The great and sublime Katyayana happened to come by on his alms round. I felt faith in him and gave him an offering of food. Then I thought to myself that perhaps my husband would like to share the merit. ‘Rejoice with me that I have given alms to the great and sublime Katyayana, the Buddha’s heir,’ I said to him. But he flew into a rage. ‘You have not yet offered food to the brahmins, nor even presented your respects to your family and friends, and there you are giving the first part of the food to this shaven-skulled monk! Why can’t he stuff his mouth with chaff?’
“I made the same proposition to my son, who also got angry: ‘Why doesn’t your bald-head eat lumps of iron?’ he yelled.
“That night, my parents sent me over some delicious food, but my daughter-in-law ate it, leaving me the worst bits. When I asked her, ‘Did you eat the good food and just leave me the worst bits?’ she told me a lie: ‘I would rather eat my own flesh,’ said she, ‘than touch a dish which was meant for you!’
“Similarly, when my servant ate the meal that she was supposed to take over to my family, she told me that she would rather drink blood and pus than steal food from me.
“I myself became a powerful preta because I made the wish to be reborn where I could see what happened to them as a result of their actions. Had I not made such a wish I would have been born amongst the gods of the Heaven of the Thirty-three, having given alms to a sublime being.
“If you ever go to our village, tell my daughter, who is a prostitute, that you have seen her parents and that you have been entrusted to tell her that what she is doing will have negative effects, that it is the wrong way to live and she should give up those evil ways.
“If she doesn’t believe you, tell her that in her father’s old house there are four iron pots filled with gold, a golden stick and an ablution jar for monks. Tell her to take them and make offerings to the great and sublime Katyayana from time to time, and dedicate the merit in our name. This will reduce our karma till it is finally exhausted.”
Once, as the Master Jetari was travelling, he met a female preta with a repulsive body, who was the mother of five hundred children.
“My husband went to Bodh Gaya twelve years ago, looking for food. He still isn’t back. If you go there, tell him that if he doesn’t come back soon, our children will all have died of hunger.”
“What does your husband look like?” asked the Master. “All pretas look alike; how will I recognize him?”
“You can’t miss him,” said she. “He’s got a huge mouth, a squashed nose, he’s blind in one eye and has all nine marks of ugliness.”
When Jetari came to Bodh Gaya, he saw a novice monk throwing many food and water torma offerings outside. When the novice had gone, a horde of pretas was jostling to get them. Among them was the one he was looking for, so he gave him his wife’s message.
The preta replied, “I’ve wandered around for twelve years but I never got a thing-except once, when a pure monk let fall some snot, but I didn’t even get much of that because there were lots of us fighting for it.” And during that battle for a bit of snot, the Master added as he related the story, the preta had been terribly wounded by the others.
Mentally take upon yourself the different torments that afflict the pretas wherever they are reborn, especially their hunger and thirst. Think how much you suffer when you do not eat or drink just for a morning. How would you feel if you were reborn in a place where for years you do not even hear any mention of water?
Reflect that the principal causes of rebirth as a preta are stinginess and opposing the generosity of others. We too have committed such acts innumerable times, so we must do whatever we can to avoid being born there. Meditate in this way from the core of your heart with the three methods for the beginning, main part and conclusion.
2.2 PRETAS WHO MOVE THROUGH SPACE
These are the tsen, gyalpo, shindre, jungpo, mamo, theurang* and so on, all of whom live out their lives in constant terror and hallucination. Thinking of nothing but evil, they always do whatever they can to bring harm to others, and many of them fall into even lower realms such as the hells as soon as they die. In particular, every week they relive all the pain of their preceding death from sickness, weapons, evil forces, or whatever it was. What they want to do is to offload their pain on others, so wherever they go they do nothing but harm. But they still fail to do themselves any good by it. Even when they happily visit their former friends and loved ones, they only bring them sickness, insanity and other unwelcome sufferings.
(*Different categories of spirits with no equivalent terms in English.)
These pretas undergo continual torture. Powerful magicians bury them, burn them and perform rituals in which they cast all sorts of imaginary weapons at them.* They lock them under the earth in darkness for kalpas, burn them up in offering fires, pound them with mustard seeds, powdered stones and the like. They split their heads into a hundred pieces and their bodies into a thousand fragments.
(*The magicians hurl various symbolic projectiles at them, such as tormas, mustard seeds
or powders, which the pretas perceive as weapons destroying their bodies.)
Like all pretas, these too have distorted perceptions: in winter, the sun feels cold to them; in summer the moon burns. Some take the form of a bird, a dog or other animal, hideous to look upon. In short, the pretas’ sufferings are inconceivable.
Practise as before, meditating with the methods for the beginning, main practice and conclusion. Mentally take on the sufferings of these beings and cultivate love and compassion for them.
3. The animals
There are two categories of animals: those living in the depths and those scattered in different places.
3.1 ANIMALS LIVING IN THE DEPTHS
The great outer oceans teem with fish, reptiles, turtles, shellfish, worms and other creatures, as numerous as the grains of malt in the bottom of a beer-barrel. There are serpents and monsters so big that their bodies can wind many times around Mount Meru. Other creatures are as small as particles of dust or the tip of a needle.
They all undergo immense sufferings. The bigger ones swallow up the smaller ones. The small ones burrow into the big ones and eat them alive in their turn. The big animals all have many tiny ones living inside them, feeding on their flesh. Some of these creatures are born between the continents, where the sun does not shine and where they cannot even see whether their limbs are bent in or stretched out. Stupid and ignorant, they have no comprehension of what to do and what not to do. They are reborn in places where suffering knows no bounds.
3.2 ANIMALS THAT LIVE SCATTERED IN DIFFERENT PLACES
The animals that live in the realms of gods and humans suffer continually from their stupidity and from being exploited, while the nagas* pass their lives in misery being tormented by garudas and rains of burning sand. In addition they are stupid, aggressive and poisonous.
(*Nagas are a category of beings living under the earth and having miraculous powers. Although they are similar to spirits, they are classed with the animals on account of their serpent-like form.)
The wild animals that share our human world, in particular, live in constant fear. They cannot eat a single mouthful of food without being on their guard. They have many mortal enemies, for all animals prey on each other and there are always hunters, beasts of prey and other threats to life. Hawks kill small birds, small birds kill insects, and so on, continually amassing evil actions in an endless round of killing and being killed.
Hunters are expert in all methods of torturing and killing these animals. They threaten their lives with all sorts of vicious devices-nets, snares, traps and guns. Some animals are killed for their horns, fur, skins and other products of their body. Oysters are killed for their pearls; elephants for their tusks and bones; tigers, leopards, otters and faxes for their fur; musk-oxen for their musk; wild asses and yaks for their flesh and blood. It is a terrible affliction that the very body with which they are born is the reason for their being killed.
As for those animals domesticated by man, they are so stupid that when their executioner approaches, knife in hand, they can only stare wide-eyed, not even thinking of escape. They are milked, loaded down, castrated, pierced through the nose and yoked to the plough. Not one of them escapes this continual round of slavery. Horses and yaks continue to be loaded and ridden even when their backs are nothing but one big sore. When they can go no further, they are whipped and pelted with stones. The fact that they could be in distress or ill never seems to cross their owners’ minds.
Cattle and sheep are exploited until they die. Once they are too old, they are sold off or killed by the owners themselves. Whatever the case, they are destined for the butcher and a natural death is unknown to them.
Animals, then, experience inconceivable torments. Whenever you see animals tortured in this way, put yourself in their place and imagine in detail all they have to undergo. Meditate with fierce compassion upon all those reborn as animals. In particular, if you have animals of your own, treat them with kindness and love. Since all animals, right down to the smallest insect, have feelings of pleasure and pain, and since they have all been our fathers and mothers, develop love and compassion towards them, combining your practice with the methods for the beginning, main part and conclusion.
No matter where in these three lower realms beings may be reborn, they experience all manner of intense and long-lasting sufferings. Beings born there are stupid, ignorant and without any idea of Dharma, and can only create further causes for yet more lives in the lower realms. So once reborn there, it is difficult to get out. In this present life of ours, and in other past lives, we have accumulated numerous actions that are certain to lead us to rebirth in those states. So we should apply ourselves with great sincerity to regretting our wrong actions in the past, confessing them and vowing to avoid them from now on.
Thinking with great compassion of the beings who live in those worlds, dedicate to them the effects of all the positive actions you have accumulated throughout the three times. Pray that they may be liberated from those evil realms: “Now that I have met with the Dharma of the Great Vehicle, and have the chance to practise the path that brings true benefit both to myself and to others, I shall practise that Dharma with courage, scorning all difficulties, and lead all those beings of the three lower realms to the Buddhafields.” Having cultivated bodhicitta with that thought, pray to your teacher and the deities, asking for their help and support, thinking, “May my teacher and the Three Jewels bless me that I may achieve this aim!” Dedicate the merit to the benefit of beings, thus practising the three supreme methods.
Although rebirth in the three lower realms naturally entails suffering, one might expect that the three higher realms would be happy and pleasant. But in fact even in the higher realms there is no happiness.
4. The human realm
Humans suffer from the three fundamental types of suffering, and also from the four great streams of suffering: birth, old-age, sickness and death. Other human sufferings are the dread of meeting hated enemies or of losing loved ones, and the suffering of not getting what one wants or of encountering what one does not want.
4.1 THE THREE FUNDAMENTAL TYPES OF SUFFERING
4.1.1 The suffering of change
The suffering of change is the suffering that we feel when a state of happiness suddenly changes into suffering. One moment we feel fine, satisfied and full after a good meal, and then suddenly we are wracked by violent spasms because of parasites in our stomach. One moment we are happy, and the next moment an enemy plunders our wealth or our livestock; or a fire burns down our home; or we are suddenly stricken by sickness or evil influences; or we receive some terrible news-and immediately we are plunged into suffering.
For indeed, whatever apparent comfort, happiness or prestige is to be found here in samsara, it lacks the tiniest scrap of constancy or stability, and in the long run can never resist the round of suffering. Therefore, cultivate disenchantment with it all.
4.1.2 Suffering upon suffering
We experience suffering upon suffering when, before one suffering is over, we are subjected to another. We get leprosy, and then we break out in boils, too; and then as well as breaking out in boils we get injured. Our father dies and then our mother dies soon afterwards. We are pursued by enemies and, on top of that, a loved one dies; and so forth. No matter where we are reborn in samsara, all our time is spent in one suffering on top of another, without any chance of a moment’s happiness.
4.1.3 The suffering of everything composite
Now, some of us might think that things are going quite well for us at the moment, and we do not seem to be suffering much. In fact, we are totally immersed in the causes of suffering. For our very food and clothing, our homes, the adornments and celebrations that give us pleasure, are all produced with harmful actions. As everything we do is just a concoction of negative actions, it can only lead to suffering. As examples, consider tea and tsampa.*
(*Tea and tsampa, finely ground roasted barley, are the two staples throughout Tibet. Tibetan tea is churned with milk and butter and consumed frequently during the day. Tsampa is mixed with it to make an instant food.)
Where tea is grown, in China, the number of small creatures that are killed while it is planted, while the leaves are being picked, and so on, would be impossible to count. The tea is then carried as far as Dartsedo by porters. Each porter carries a load of twelve six-brick packs, taking the weight on a band around his forehead which wears away his skin. But even when his skull shows through, all white, he carries on. From Dotok onwards, dzo, yaks and mules take over, their backs breaking, their bellies perforated with cuts, patches of their hair chafed away. They suffer terribly from their servitude. Bartering the tea involves nothing but a series of broken promises, cheating and argument, until finally the tea changes hands, usually in exchange for animal products like wool and lambskins. Now wool, in summer before shearing, is crawling with fleas, ticks and other small creatures as numerous as the strands of wool themselves. During shearing, most of those insects are decapitated, cut in two or disembowelled. Those not killed remain stuck in the wool and suffocate. All of this can only lead to lower rebirths. As for lambskins, remember that new-born lambs have all their organs of sense, and they feel pleasure and pain. Just as they are enjoying their first instants of life, in perfect health, they are killed. Perhaps they are only stupid animals, but nevertheless they do not want to die-they love life and suffer as they are tortured and slaughtered. As for the ewes whose little ones have been killed, they are a living example of the sorrow experienced by a mother who loses her only child. So when we think about the production and trade of such products, we can understand that even a single sip of tea cannot but contribute to rebirth in the lower realms.
Now look at tsampa. Before sowing the barley, the fields have to be ploughed, which forces to the surface all the worms and insects living underground and buries underground all those living on the surface. Wherever the ploughing oxen go, they are followed by crows and small birds who feed incessantly on all those small creatures. When the field are irrigated, all the aquatic animals in the water are stranded on dry land, while all the creatures living on dry land are drowned. Likewise, at each stage of sowing, harvest and threshing, the number of beings killed is incalculable. If you think about it, it is almost as if we were eating powdered insects.
In the same way, butter, milk and other foods, the “three white foods” and the “three sweet foods” that we consider pure and untainted by harmful actions, are not so at all. The majority of baby yaks, calves and lambs are killed. Those who are not, as soon as they are born and before they have had a chance to suckle even a mouthful of their mothers’ sweet milk, have a rope tied round their necks and stay tethered to a stake during pauses on the road, and to each other during journeys, so that every mouthful of milk-their rightful food and drink – can be stolen to make butter and cheese. By taking the essence of the mother’s body, so vital for the baby, we leave them half way between life and death. When spring comes around, the old mother animals have become so weak that they cannot even get up from their stalls. The calves and lambs have mostly starved to death. The survivors, weak and skeleton-like, stagger about almost dead.
All the factors we now see as constituting happiness-food to eat, clothes to wear, and whatever goods and materials we can think of-are likewise produced through negative actions alone. The end result of all those things can only be the infinite torments of the lower realms. So everything that seems to represent happiness today is, in fact, the suffering of everything composite.
4.2 THE SUFFERINGS OF BIRTH, SICKNESS, OLD AGE AND DEATH
4.2.1 The suffering of birth
For human beings here in this world, birth is from the womb.* The consciousness of a being in the intermediate state first has to interpose itself into the union of the father’s semen and mother’s blood. It then passes through the painful experiences of the various embryonic stages: the round jelly, viscous ellipse, thick oblong, firm oval, hard round lump,** and so on. Once the limbs, appendages and sense-organs have formed, the fetus, trapped inside the dark, rank and suffocating uterus, suffers like someone thrown into prison. When the mother eats hot food, the fetus suffers pain as if being burned by fire. When she eats something cold, it feels as if it is being thrown into freezing water; when she lies down, as if buried under the weight of a hill; when her stomach is full, as if trapped between rocks; when she is hungry, as if falling from a precipice; when she walks about or sits down, as if buffeted about by the wind.
(*The other principal types of birth that occur variously in the six realms are birth from
an egg, birth from heat and moisture, and miraculous birth.)
(**These are approximate translations of the technical terms used in Tibetan medicine for the first five weekly stages of embryonic development.)
As the pregnancy reaches term, the energy of karmic existence* turns the baby’s head downwards ready to be born. As the baby is pushed down towards the cervix, it suffers as though a strong giant were holding it by the legs and banging it against a wall. As it is forced through the bony structure of the pelvis, the baby feels as though it were being pulled through the hole in a draw-plate.** Should the opening be too narrow, it cannot be delivered and dies. Indeed, both mother and baby may die during labour, and even if they survive they experience all the pain of dying.
(*The force of previous actions which propels the whole process of samsara.)
(**A plate pierced with a hole through which metal is drawn to make wire.)
As the Great Master of Oddiyana said:
Both mother and child go halfway to the land of Death,
And all the mother’s joints, except her jaws, are wrenched apart.
Everything the baby experiences is painful. Dropping down on the mattress as it is born feels like falling into a pit full of thorns. Having the encrusted slime wiped off its back feels like being flayed alive. Being washed clean feels like being beaten with thorns. Being taken on to its mother’s lap feels like being a little bird carried off by a hawk. Having butter rubbed on the crown of its head* feels like being tied up and thrown down a hole. Being put in the cradle is like being put into dirty mud. Whenever the infant suffers from hunger, thirst, sickness and so on, all it can do is cry.
(*In Tibet butter is massaged into the crown of the head of the newborn baby to encourage the fontanelle to close. Although this is considered beneficial to its health, the newborn child is so sensitive that the subtle energies of its body are agitated.)
From birth onwards, as we mature in our youth, we have the impression of growth and increase. But what is really happening is that our life is getting shorter, day by day, as we approach closer to death. We get caught up in this life’s ordinary undertakings, one after another, none of the ever coming to a conclusion, following each other like ripples on water. As all of them are based only on negative actions, their outcome is sure to be lower rebirths, and endless suffering.
4.2.2 The suffering of old age
As we busy ourselves with these inconsequential and ever-unfinished worldly tasks, the suffering of old age creeps up on us unnoticed. Little by little the body loses its vigour. We can no longer digest the food that we like. Our eyesight dims, and we can no longer make out small or distant objects clearly. Our hearing starts to fail and we can no longer distinguish sounds and speech correctly. Our tongue can no longer taste what we eat or drink, nor articulate properly what we want to say. As our mental faculties weaken, our memory fails us and we lapse into confusion and forgetfulness. Our teeth fall out, so we can no longer chew solid food, and whatever we say becomes an unintelligible mumble. Our body loses its heat and we no longer feel warm in light clothing. Our strength declines and we can no longer carry anything heavy. Although we still have a taste for pleasure and enjoyment we no longer have the energy. As our channels and energies degenerate we become irritable and impatient. Scorned by all, we become depressed and sad. The body’s elements get out of balance, bringing a host of illnesses and problems. We have to struggle with all our movements, like walking and sitting, which have become almost impossible tasks. Jetsun Mila sings:
One, you stand yourself up as if pulling a peg from the ground;
Two, you creep along as though you were stalking a bird;
Three, you sit down like a sack being dropped.
When these three things come together, granny,
You’re a sad old woman whose illusory body’s wasting away.
One, from the outside your skin hangs in wrinkles;
Two, from the inside protrude bones where flesh and blood have shrunk;
Three, in between you’re stupid, deaf, blind and dazed.
When these three things come together, granny,
Your face frowns with ugly wrinkles.
One, your clothes are so ragged and heavy;
Two, your food and drink is insipid and cold; Three, you sit on your mat propped up with skins on four sides.
When these three things come together, granny,
You’re like a realized yogi being trampled by men and dogs.
In old age, when we want to stand up we cannot do it normally all in one movement. We have to put both hands on the floor, as though we were trying to pull a peg out of hard earth. When we walk we stay bent over at the waist and cannot raise our heads; and being unable to pick up and put down our feet very quickly, we creep along gingerly like a child stalking a bird. All the joints in our arms and legs are so arthritic that we cannot sit down gradually. Instead, we let our whole weight crash down at once like a gunny-sack as its sling breaks.
As our flesh wastes away, our skin becomes lax and our bodies and faces are covered in wrinkles. With less flesh and blood around them, all our joints become more prominent. Our cheek-bones and all our other bony protuberances stick out under the skin. Our memory declines, and we become dull-witted, deaf and blind. We cannot think clearly and we feel giddy. With the decline of our physical vigour there is little reason for us to want to look our best, so the clothes we wear are always heavy and ragged. We eat left-overs and have no sense of taste; all the food we eat is cold and insipid. We feel so heavy that it is difficult to do anything. We prop ourselves up in bed on all four sides and cannot get up. By that point, our physical deterioration has brought on depression and terrible mental suffering. All the beauty and brightness of our faces has faded, our skin is covered in wrinkles, and our foreheads are lined with ugly frowns of ill humour. Everyone scorns us, and even if people are stepping over our head, we cannot get up. We no longer react. It is as if we were realized yogis for whom clean and unclean no longer exist.* Unable to bear the suffering of old age, we want to die, but in fact the closer we come to death the more terrified we are of it.
(*For Tibetans, as in many oriental cultures, to step over someone’s head (and body, too) is extremely insulting and a source of defilement. For the practitioner of tantra it is a lack of respect for the mandala of the body, which is sacred. However, for a yogi who has realized the ultimate purity of all phenomena in the absolute, all categories of experience have the same taste of emptiness.)
All this makes the suffering that we have to undergo in old age not very different from the torments of beings in the lower realms.
4.2.3 The suffering of sickness
When the four elements that make up our body become imbalanced, all sorts of illnesses-those of wind, bile, phlegm and so on-arise, and sensations of pain and suffering afflict us.
As soon as the first painful twinges of illness strike-however young we may be in body and mind, however strong and radiantly healthy, however much in our prime-we crumple like little birds hit by a stone.
Our strength evaporates. We sink into the depths of our bedding, and any movement, however slight, is difficult. Even to answer when someone asks what is wrong is an effort: our voice seems to come from deep inside and is hard to get out. We try lying on our right side, then on our left, on our back or on our belly. But we can never get comfortable. We lose all appetite for food and drink and cannot sleep at night. In the daytime the days seem endless; at night the nights seem endless. We have to put up with bitter, hot or sour medicines, with bloodletting, cautery and all sorts of other unpleasant treatments. The thought that this illness might suddenly end in death terrifies us. Under the power of morbid influences and our own lack of integrity we may lose control of both body and mind, arid on top of our normal deluded perceptions we start to hallucinate. Sometimes the sick even take their own lives. People suffering from diseases such as leprosy and epilepsy are abandoned by all and left to contemplate their fate; they are still alive, but it is as though they were already dead.
Sick people are usually unable to look after themselves. Their illness makes them short-tempered, and they always find fault with what others do for them. They become more and more fussy and critical, and if their sickness drags on and on, people get tired of looking after them and no longer do what they ask. The discomforts caused by their disease torment them continually.
4.2.4 The suffering of death
As death approaches, you collapse into your bed and no longer have the strength to get up. Even when you see food and drink, you feel no desire for it. Tormented by the sensations of dying, you feel more and more depressed and all your courage and confidence evaporate. You experience forebodings and hallucinations of what awaits you. Your time has come for the great moving on. Your family and friends gather around you, but there is nothing they can do to delay your departure-you are going through the suffering of death by yourself, all alone. Nor is there any way for you to take your possessions with you, however limitless they might be. You cannot bring yourself to let go of them, but you know you cannot keep them either. Remorse overtakes you as you remember the negative actions that you have done. When you think of the sufferings of the lower realms, you are terrified. Death is suddenly here. Dread takes hold of you The perceptions of life slip away, and slowly you grow colder.
When an evil-doer dies, he clutches at his breast, covering his skin with the marks of his finger nails. Remembering all his evil actions, he is frightened of being reborn in the lower realms. He is filled with regret at not having practised the Dharma while he had the freedom to do so, as it is the only thing which would have been useful at the moment of death. When he realizes that, he feels tremendous pain. That is why he beats his breast and covers it with the marks of his nails as he dies. It is said:
Watch an evil man dying;
He is a teacher demonstrating to us the effect of actions.
Even before he is dead, the lower realms start to close in on him. Whatever he perceives becomes menacing. All his sensations cause him to suffer. The elements of his body dissolve, his breath becomes hoarse and his limbs go limp. He starts to hallucinate. His eyes roll up, and as he passes beyond this life Death comes to meet him. The apparitions of the intermediate state appear, but he has no protector or refuge.
There is no guarantee at all that our moment to leave this life, naked and empty-handed, will not come today. When that happens the only thing that will truly help us is the Dharma. There is no other refuge. It is said:
In your mother’s womb, turn your mind to the Dharma;
As soon as you are born, remember the Dharma for death.
Since death comes so suddenly, to young as well as old, we ought to have started practising the Dharma from the very moment of our birth. For only Dharma will help us at the moment of death. But up to now we have forgotten about death, being too busy overcoming our adversaries and helping our friends, taking care of our houses and possessions, occupying ourselves with friends and family. But to pass our time like that, steeped in attachment, ignorance and hatred for the sake of friends and love ones, is, if you think about it, a great mistake.
4.3 OTHER HUMAN SUFFERINGS
4.3.1 The fear of meeting hated enemies
We could spend all our time looking after our wealth and property, and mount guard over it day and night. But even that would not prevent us from eventually having to share it with our enemies. Brigands by day, burglars by night, wild dogs, wolves, and other fierce animals can all descend on us without warning. Obviously, the more wealth and property we have, the more trouble it takes to acquire it, protect it and try to increase it.
Nagarjuna writes:
Amassing wealth, watching over it and making it grow will wear you out.
Understand that riches bring unending ruin and destruction.
Jetsun Milarepa says:
In the beginning wealth makes you happy and envied;
But however much you have, it never seems enough.
In the middle miserliness tightens its knots around you:
You can’t bear to spend it on offerings or charity.
Your wealth attracts enemies and negative forces,
And everything you’ve gathered gets used up by others.
In the end, wealth’s a demon that puts your life in danger.
How frustrating to just look after wealth for your enemies!
I’ve cast off this millstone which drags us down into samsara.
I want no more of this devils’ lure.
Our sufferings are in direct proportion to the extent of our possessions. For instance, if you owned a horse you would worry that it might be carried off by an enemy or stolen by a thief; you would wonder whether it had all the hay it needed, and so on. Just one horse brings plenty of trouble. If you owned a sheep, you would have one sheep’s worth of trouble. If all you had was a bag of tea* you could still be sure of having a bag of tea’s worth of trouble.
(*A measure which corresponds to four bricks of pressed Tibetan tea.)
So reflect and meditate on how important it is to live in peace, following the old adage “without wealth, there are no enemies.” Inspire yourself with the stories of the Buddhas of the past and uproot all your attachment to money and property. Live on what you find like the birds, and devote yourself entirely to the practice of Dharma.
4.3.2 The fear of losing loved ones
We who live in this world of samsara all feel attachment for those with whom we identify and hostility toward others. For the sake of our families, followers, compatriots, friends and lovers, we are prepared to undergo all sorts of suffering. None of those with whom we have ties of kin or friendship can live for ever, and sooner or later we are bound to be separated from them. They die, or they drift off to other countries, or they are threatened by enemies and other dangers-and the suffering they undergo affects us more deeply than our own. Parents, especially, care very much for their children and are constantly worrying that they might be cold, hungry or thirsty, or that they might fall ill or die. Indeed, they love their children to the point that they would rather die themselves than let them suffer, and for their sake suffer a great deal of anguish.
But although we suffer so much from this dread of being separated from the friends and relatives we love, we should think about it carefully. Can we be so sure that our dear ones are as dear as we think? For instance, our parents claim to love us as their children, but their way of loving us is misguided and has an effect that is ultimately harmful. By trying to give us wealth and property and get us married, they are tightening samsara’s hold on us. They teach us everything we need to know about how to get the better of our adversaries, how to take care of our friends, how to get rich, and all the other harmful courses of action that will just make sure that we stay inescapably trapped in the lower realms. They could not do worse than that.
As for our children, both boys and girls, in the beginning they suck the essence out of our bodies, in the middle they take food out of our mouths, and in the end they take wealth out of our hands. In return for our love they rebel against us.
To our sons we give all the wealth that we have earned throughout our lives, without counting the cost and regardless of all the negative activities, suffering and criticism we have had to go through-but they are still not in the least bit grateful. Even if we present them with a full measure of Chinese silver, they are less grateful than any normal person would be if we had given them a pinch of tea-leaves. They just think that whatever belongs to their father automatically belongs to them.
Our sisters and daughters, too, swallow up our fortunes without any gratitude. The more we give them, the more they want. If we have so much as a false turquoise as a counter on our rosary, they will wheedle that out of us as well. At the very best, they contribute to the prosperity of other people, but bring nothing to us. But should things go badly, they return home, bringing dishonour and sadness to their family.*
(*In traditional Asian cultures a bride, accompanied by her dowry, joins her husband’s family. If the marriage fails she will return to the house of her parents.)
As for all our other relatives and friends, they treat us like gods-as long as we are prosperous and happy and everything is going splendidly. They do whatever they can to help us, and give us all kinds of things of which we have no need. But should we fall on hard times, although we have done them no harm at all, they treat us like enemies and return with malice any kindness we show them.
All this goes to show that there is nothing of any worth in sons, daughters, family and friends, as Jetsun Mila expresses in his song:
In the beginning, your son is a charming little god;
You love him so much that you cannot bear it.
In the middle he ferociously demands his due;
You give him everything, but he is never satisfied.
He brings home someone else’s daughter,
Pushing his kindly parents out.
When his father calls him, he doesn’t deign to answer.
When his mother calls, he doesn’t even hear.
In the end, he is like a distant neighbour.
You destroy yourself nourishing a swindler like that.
How frustrating it is to beget your own enemies!
I’ve cast off this harness that tethers us to samsara.
I don’t want any of these worldly sons.
He goes on:
In the beginning a daughter is a smiling little goddess,
Imperiously monopolizing all your best possessions.
In the middle, she endlessly asks her due:
She openly demands things from her father,
And steals them from her mother on the sly.
Never satisfied with what she’s given,
She’s a source of despair to her kindly parents.
In the end, she’s a red-faced ogress:
At best, she’s an asset to someone else,
At worst, she’ll bring calamity upon you.
How frustrating she is, this ravaging monster!
I’ve cast off this incurable sorrow.
I don’t want a daughter who’ll lead me to ruin.
Finally:
In the beginning friends meet you joyfully, they smile
And the whole valley rings with “Come in!” and “Sit down!”
In the middle they return your hospitality with meat and beer,
Item for item, exactly one for one. In the end, they cause strife based on hate or attachment.
How frustrating they are, those evil friends with all their quarrels!
I’ve given up my dining companions of easy times.
I don’t want any worldly friends.
4.3.3 The suffering of not getting what one wants
There is not one of us in the world who does not want to be happy and feel good; and yet none of us gets what we want. For instance, a family trying to make themselves comfortable build a house, but it collapses and kills them. A person might eat to satisfy his hunger, but the food makes him ill and endangers his life. Soldiers go to battle hoping for victory, and immediately get killed. A group of merchants go on a trading expedition in high hopes of profit, but are attacked and reduced to beggary. No matter how much effort and energy we expend in the hope of becoming happy and rich in this life, unless actions in our past lives have created that potential we will not even be able to satisfy our immediate hunger. All we will do is to make trouble for ourselves and others. The only result we can be sure of achieving is not to be liberated from the depths of the lower realms. That is why a single spark of merit is worth more than a mountain of effort.
What use are samsaric activities that never come to an end? All the effort we have made throughout beginningless time in samsara trying to get what we want has brought us nothing but suffering. In the past, had we taken all the energy we devoted to worldly aims over the early or later part of just one life and devoted that energy to the Dharma instead, we would already be Buddhas by now. And if not, then at least we would definitely never again be subject to the sufferings of the lower realms.
We should meditate as follows: now that we know the difference between what we should do and what we should not, let us stop putting great hopes in samsaric enterprises that will never be accomplished-and instead practise the true Dharma, in which accomplishment is certain.
4.3.4 The suffering of encountering what one does not want
There is not one of us in the world who wants any of the sufferings described here, and yet they are what we experience all the time, whether we like it or not. There are people, for example, who because of their past actions become the subjects of a particular ruler or the slaves of some rich person. Against their wish, they are completely subordinated to the will of their masters, without a moment’s freedom. They might be punished terribly for the smallest mistakes, and there is still nothing they can do. Even if they were being led right now to the execution ground, they would know they could not escape.
We are always encountering what we do not want. As the Great Omniscient One* says:
You would like to stay with family and loved ones
Forever, but you are certain to leave them.
You would like to keep your beautiful home
Forever, but you are certain to leave it behind.
You would like to enjoy happiness, wealth and comfort
Forever, but you are certain to lose them.
You would like to keep this excellent human life with its freedoms and advantages
Forever, but you are certain to die.
You would like to study Dharma with your wonderful teacher
Forever, but you are certain to part.
You would like to be with your good spiritual friends
Forever, but you are certain to separate.
O my friends who feel deep disillusionment with samsara,
I, the Dharmaless beggar,** exhort you:
From today put on the armour of effort, for the time has come
To cross to the land of great bliss whence there is no separation.
(*Longchenpa)
(**Tibetan authors often refer to themselves with extreme modesty in this way.)
Wealth, possessions, health, happiness and popularity are all the effects of past positive actions. If you have accumulated positive actions in the past, all these things will come to you naturally as a result, whether you want them or not. But without those positive actions, no amount of effort will ever get what you want. All you will get is what you want least. So when you practise the Dharma, rely on the inexhaustible wealth of being content with whatever comes. Otherwise, once you start practising, your worldly ambitions for this life are sure to bring you trouble and displease the holy beings. Jetsun Mila sings:
What the Lord of Men, the Conqueror, mainly taught
Was how to be rid of the eight ordinary concerns.
But those who consider themselves learned these days Haven’t their ordinary concerns grown even greater than before?
The Conqueror taught rules of discipline to follow
So that one could withdraw from all worldly tasks.
But the monks of today who follow those rules Aren’t their worldly tasks now more numerous than before?
He taught how to live like the risis of old
So that one could cut off ties with friends and relations.
But those who live like risis these days Don’t they care how people see them even more than before?
In short, practised without remembering death,
Any Dharma is useless.
Human beings living in these degenerate times in all four continents of this world, but particularly here in Jambudvipa, are deprived of even the tiniest opportunity for happiness. Their lives are full of suffering. Nowadays degeneration accelerates with every year that passes, every month and every day, every mealtime, every morning and every evening. The kalpa is going from bad to worse. The Buddha’s teaching and beings’ happiness are decaying more and more. Think about all this and develop a feeling of disillusionment. Moreover, this continent of Jambudvipa confers a particular power on the effects of actions* which makes everything-good and bad, pleasant and unpleasant, high and low, Dharma or not-highly unpredictable. You should really see for yourself how things are, and be clear in your mind about what has to be done and what should be avoided.
(*A place where the force of karma is more powerful and its effects are felt more strongly and, in certain cases, sooner. Of the four continents in the universe of traditional cosmology, it is especially in Jambudvipa that actions produce strong effects, and in which individual experiences are more variable. The inhabitants of the other continents experience the results of past actions, for the most part, rather than creating new causes. Their experiences and lifespans are more fixed.)
Put into practice the Omniscient Longchenpa’s advice:
Sometimes look at what you perceive to be favourable;
If you know it’s just perception, all you experience will turn out to be helpful.*
Sometimes look at what you perceive to be adverse and harmful;
This is vital, making you appalled at the deluded way you see things.
Sometimes look at your friends and the teachers of others;
Distinguishing the good from the bad will inspire you to practise.**
Sometimes look at the miraculous display of the four elements in space;
You will see how effort subsides in the true nature of mind.***
Sometimes look at your homeland, house and possessions;
Knowing them to be illusory, you will feel disgust at the deluded way you perceived them. Sometimes look at the wealth and possessions of others;
Seeing how pitiful they are, you will cast off samsaric ambition.
In brief, examining the nature of everything in all its multiplicity,
You will destroy the delusion of clinging to any of it as real.
(*If we are not deceived by favourable circumstances, but realize that they only have as much reality as we accord them, those circumstances can become an aid to the progress of our meditation instead of producing attachments which will obstruct us.)
(**It is through observing both good and bad teachers that one can appreciate the good ones. Observing good and bad practitioners helps one to learn how to act oneself.)
(***In the same way that outer phenomena appear and disappear in space, mental phenomena arise from the nature of mind and dissolve back within it. They have no independent reality.)
5. The asuras
The pleasures and abundance enjoyed by the asuras, the demigods, rival those of the gods. However, from previous lives they have a strong propensity for envy, quarrelling and fighting. The effect of those past negative actions is that no sooner do they take their present form than they start to experience intense feelings of envy.
Even within their own realms, there are disputes between territories and provinces, and they spend all their time fighting and quarrelling among themselves over such disagreements.
But worse, looking upwards into the realm of the gods, they can see that the gods have the ultimate in wealth and possessions. They also see that all the gods’ wants and needs are provided by a wish-fulfilling tree-whose roots, however, are in their own realm. At that they are seized with unbearable resentment. Donning their armour and grabbing their weapons, they set off to make war on the gods. As soon as the gods see what is happening, they proceed to the Forest of Aggression* and in their turn put on armour and take up arms. The gods keep an elephant with thirty-three heads called Supremely Steady. Their king, Indra, rides on the central head, with his ministers all around him on the thirty-two other heads. Inconceivable divine legions of irresistible splendour surround them, raising their mighty battle cry. As the battle begins, they let loose a rain of weapons – vajras, wheels, spears, giant arrows and so on. Their magical power gives them the strength to haul huge mountains into their laps and hurl them down as missiles. Because of their past actions, gods are seven times taller than men, but demigods are much smaller than gods. Gods can be killed only by cutting off their heads; any other wounds they receive are immediately healed by their divine ambrosia. But demigods die, as humans do, when a vital organ is hit. They are therefore bound to lose the many battles that take place. When, among their other strategies, the gods dispatch an elephant called All-Protector, crazed with liquor, a wheel of swords fastened to its trunk, the demigods die in their hundreds of thousands. Their corpses tumble down the slopes of Mount Meru to fall into the Great Exuberant Lakes below, whose waters are suffused with the colour of blood.
(*The realm of the gods is characterized in part by the absence of anger and hatred. So here, in order to be able to fight, the gods of the Heaven of the Thirty-three go to a magic forest which makes them aggressive.)
In this realm of the asuras, with their constant fights and quarrels, there is no freedom from suffering. Meditate on their lot from the depth of your heart.
6. The gods
The gods enjoy perfect health, comfort, wealth and happiness all their lives. However, they spend their time in diversions and the idea of practising Dharma never occurs to them. Throughout their lives, which may last a whole kalpa, they do not have that thought even for an instant. Then, having wasted their whole life in distraction, they are suddenly confronted with death. All gods of the six heavens of the World of Desire, from that of the Four Great Kings right up to the one called Enjoying the Emanations of Others, have to undergo the sufferings of death and transmigration.
There are five signs that foreshadow the death of a god. His body’s inherent brilliance, usually visible from a league or several miles distant, grows dim. His throne, upon which he never before felt weary of sitting, no longer pleases him; he feels uncomfortable and ill at ease. His flower garlands, which before had never faded however much time passed, wither. His garments, which always stayed clean and fresh however long he wore them, get old and filthy and start to smell. His body, which never perspired at all before, starts to sweat. When these five signs of approaching death appear, the god is tormented by the knowledge that he, too, is soon going to die. His divine companions and sweethearts also know what is going to happen to him; they can no longer approach, but throw flowers from a distance and call their good wishes, saying, “When you die and pass on from here, may you be reborn among the humans. May you do good works and be reborn among the gods again.” With that they abandon him. Utterly alone, the dying god is engulfed by sorrow. With his divine eye he looks where he is going to be reborn. If it is in a realm of suffering, the torments of his fall overwhelm him even before those of his transmigration have ended. As these agonies become twice and then three times as intense, he despairs and is forced to spend seven gods’ days lamenting. Seven days among the gods of the Heaven of the Thirty-three are seven hundred human years. During that time, as he looks back, remembering all the well being and happiness he has enjoyed and realizing that he is powerlessness to stay, he experiences the suffering of transmigration; and looking ahead, already tormented by the vision of his future birthplace, he experiences the suffering of his fall. The mental anguish of this double suffering is worse than that of the hells.
In the two highest divine realms,* there are no obvious sufferings of death and transmigration. However, when the effect of the actions which sent them there is exhausted, these gods fall into the lower realms as though waking from sleep. Such is their suffering.
(*The worlds of form and formlessness.)
As Lord Nagarjuna says:
Know that even Brahms himself,
After achieving happiness free from attachment
In his turn will endure ceaseless suffering
As fuel for the fires of the Hell of Ultimate Torment.
Wherever we are born throughout the six realms, therefore, everything has the nature of suffering, everything multiplies suffering, everything is an engine of suffering-and there is nothing other than suffering. It is like a pit of fire, an island of murderous ogresses, an oceanic abyss, the tip of a knife or a cesspit. There is not one tiny moment of peace to be found. According to the Sutra of Sublime Dharma of Clear Recollection:
Beings in hell suffer from hell-fire,
Pretas suffer from hunger and thirst,
Animals suffer from being eaten by each other,
Humans suffer from having a short life,
Asuras suffer from wars and quarrels,
And the gods suffer from their own mindlessness.
In samsara there is never a pinpoint of happiness.
And Lord Maitreya says:
Just as there are no good smells in a cesspit,
There is no happiness among the five classes of beings.*
(*An alternative classification of the six realms with the gods and asuras grouped as one.)
The Great Master of Oddiyana says:
It is said that in this samsara there is not as much
As a pinpoint’s worth of happiness to be found.
But should one happen to find just a little,
It will contain the suffering of change.
The more you reflect on these and other similar passages, the more you will realize that no matter where you are reborn, from the summit of existence right down to the deepest hell, there is not even the tiniest interlude of real comfort or happiness. It is all without any meaning. Think about samsara and its sufferings until you have no desire for it any more, like someone with a bad liver being offered greasy food.
Do not be content with merely hearing about these torments and understanding them intellectually. Take them upon yourself mentally and experience them with all your imagination until you are really convinced of them. Armed with that degree of certainty, avoiding negative actions and take pleasure in positive ones will come naturally to you without your having to force it.
Nanda, Lord Buddha’s cousin, was very attached to his wife and did not want to renounce the world. Even though, by skilful means, Lord Buddha persuaded him to enter the Dharma and become a monk, he did not follow the precepts. He was about to run away, when the Buddha miraculously transported him to the top of a snow-mountain and showed him a one-eyed she-monkey.
The Buddha asked Nanda, “Which do you find more beautiful, this monkey or your wife Pundarika?”
“My wife,” replied Nanda. “A hundred or a thousand times more!”
“Good,” replied the Buddha. “Now let us go to the realm of the gods.”
When they arrived, the Buddha sat down and told Nanda to go and have a look around. Each god lived in his own palace, surrounded by many young goddesses, and enjoyed inconceivable pleasure, happiness and abundance. However, there was one palace with numerous goddesses but no god. Nanda asked why, and was told, “In the realm of the humans, there is a man called Nanda, a cousin of the Buddha, who is following monastic discipline. This action will lead him to be reborn among the gods, and this palace will then be his.”
Nanda was overjoyed. He went back to the Buddha who asked him, “Did you see the gods’ realm?”
“I certainly did!”
“Good. Which do you find more beautiful, your wife or the young goddesses? “
“The daughters of the gods are much more beautiful,” replied Nanda; “indeed, their beauty surpasses that of Pundarika by as much as her beauty surpasses that of the one-eyed monkey we saw before.”
Once back on earth, Nanda observed monastic discipline perfectly.
Then the Buddha addressed the monks. “Nanda has renounced worldly life in order to be reborn in the divine realms,” he said, “but all of you have become monks in order to go beyond suffering. You and he are not on the same path. Do not talk to him any more. Do not be intimate with him. Do not even sit on the same seat as him!”
All the monks obeyed, and Nanda was very upset. He thought, “Ananda is my younger brother; at least he will still have some affection for me.” But when he went to see his brother, Ananda got up from the seat and moved away. Nanda asked him why, and Ananda told him what the Buddha had said. Nanda was heartbroken.
At last the Buddha came to him and said, “Nanda, will you come to see the hells?” Nanda agreed, and the Buddha transported them both there with his miraculous powers. “Go and look around,” he said.
So Nanda set off to explore, visiting all the realms of hell, until in one place he came across an empty pot with a blazing fire crackling inside it and a large number of the Lord of Death’s henchmen all around. He asked them why there was no one in the pot.
“There is a young cousin of the Buddha called Nanda,” they replied, “who is practising monastic discipline with the intention of being reborn as a god. After enjoying the happiness of a celestial realm, when his merit runs out he will be reborn here.”
Nanda was terrified. He returned, and thought things over. To be born among the gods in the future and then to end up in the hell-realms made no sense, so he developed a real determination to seek freedom from samsara. Having seen the hells with his own eyes, he never did anything that transgressed the precepts even slightly, and the Buddha extolled him as the disciple with the best control over the sense-doors.*
(*Controlling the sense-doors means not allowing oneself to be seduced by the objects of the senses.)
We do not need to go so far as to see the hells with our own eyes. A simple picture is enough to frighten us and reinforce our desire for liberation. It is for this reason that the Buddha asked that the five-fold wheel representing samsara be drawn at the doors of the sangha’s assembly-halls.*
(*This diagram can commonly be seen at the entrance of Tibetan temples.)
As Lord Nagarjuna said:
If just to see pictures of the hells, to hear descriptions,
Or to read and think about them brings you such terror,
What will you do when you experience there
The full, inexorable effects of your actions?
Reflect, therefore, on all the different kinds of suffering in samsara. From the depth of your heart, turn away from all the ordinary goals of this life. Unless you give up worldly activities completely, whatever Dharma you may claim to be practising will not be the real thing.
As Atisa was about to leave this world, a yogi came to him with a question. “After you have gone, should I meditate?”
“Even if you do, will it really be the Dharma?” Atisa asked him.
“Well then, should I teach?”
The master answered him with the same question.
“So, what should I do?” asked the yogi.
“All of you should rely entirely on Tonpa and sincerely renounce this life,” answered Atisa.
Another tale tells of a monk who was circumambulating Radreng Monastery when he met Geshe Tonpa, The Geshe said, “Venerable monk, circumambulating is a good thing, but wouldn’t it be better to practise real Dharma?”
The monk thought to himself, “Maybe it is more important to read the Mahayana siitras than to circumambulate.” So he took to reading the siitras on the balcony overlooking the outdoor teaching yard.
After a while, Geshe Tonpa told him, “It is a good thing to read the teachings, too, but wouldn’t it be better to practise real Dharma?”
The monk thought it over again. “This must mean that it would be better to practise meditation than to read the sutras.” So he put off his reading till another time and began to spend his time sitting on his bed with his eyes half closed.
Once again, .Tonpa said to him, “It is a good thing to meditate, too, but wouldn’t it be better to practise the real Dharma?”
The monk, at his wits’ end, cried out, “Venerable Geshe, what should I do, then, to practise Dharma?”
“Venerable monk,” the Geshe replied, “renounce this life! Renounce this life!”
It is all our ordinary activities and commitments limited to this life’s concerns that prevent us from getting free from samsara’s realms of suffering, now and forever. Apart from an authentic teacher, no-one else can truly show us what has to be done to cut through the moorings that hold us to this life and to attain enlightenment in our future lives. Leave behind all of this life’s preoccupations-parents, relatives and friends, companions and lovers, food, wealth and possessions-like so much spit in the dust.* Be satisfied with whatever food and clothes might come your way, and devote yourself wholly to the Dharma.
(*What is implied here (explicit in other chapters) is not a rejection of one’s responsibilities to parents, children etc. but a transformation of limited ego-based attachment and preoccupation into a genuine love which also extends to all beings.)
Padampa Sangye says:
Material objects are like clouds and mist; never think they might last. Popularity is like an echo; don’t pursue esteem, pursue its very nature.
Beautiful clothes are like colours in a rainbow; dress simply and apply yourself to practise.
This body of ours is a sack of blood, pus and lymph; do not cherish it.
Even delicious meals turn into excrement; don’t give great importance to food.
Phenomena arise as enemies; stay in hermitages or in the mountains.
The thorns of illusory perception tear at the mind; experience them as being of equal nature.*
Desires and needs all come from yourself; keep to the very nature of mind.
The most precious jewel is within you; do not long for food and wealth.
A lot of talking just brings quarrels; act as if you were dumb.
Mind has its own natural ability; don’t just follow the dictates of your stomach.
Blessings arise from the mind; pray to your lama and yidam.
If you stay in one place too long, you will find fault even with the Buddha; don’t stay anywhere for long.
You should act in a humble way; abandon pride in your status.
You won’t be here for long; practise now without delay.
You are like a traveller in this life; don’t build a castle where you are just resting a while.
No action will be of any help; put accomplishment into practice.
You never know when your body will become worm-fodder or
simply disappear; don’t get distracted by this life’s appearances.
Friends and relations are like little birds on a branch; do not get attached to them.
Confident faith is like an excellent foundation; don’t leave it in the refuse of negative emotions.
This human form is like a precious wish-granting gem; do not hand it to your enemy, hatred.
Samaya is like a watch-tower;** don’t contaminate it with faults.
While the Vajra Master is still among you, don’t let the Dharma drift into laziness.
(*Ultimately all perceptions have the same nature, which is emptiness.)
(**Just as a watch tower plays a vital role in a war for observing the enemy and obtaining the victory, the samaya is essential in the Secret Mantrayana for avoiding obstacles and attaining Buddhahood.)
To truly practise and experience the Dharma, it is essential that you realize just how meaningless is everything in samsara. The only way to develop that realization is this meditation on samsara’s evils. Reflect on it until you are deeply convinced that samsara is full of suffering.
The sign of the meditation having truly taken root in you is to feel like Geshe Langri Thangpa. One day, one of his close attendants told him, “The others call you Langri Thangpa Gloomy-face.”
“How could my face be bright and cheery when I think about all the sufferings in the three worlds of samsara?” the Geshe replied.
It is said that Langri Thangpa only ever smiled once. He saw a mouse trying to move a turquoise that was on his mandala. But the mouse could not lift the jewel on its own, so it called, “Tsik! tsik!,” and another mouse came along too. One mouse pushed the turquoise while the other pulled. That made Langri Thangpa smile.
This meditation on the sufferings of samsara is the basis and support for all the good qualities of the path. It turns your mind towards the Dharma. It gives you confidence in the principle of cause and effect in all your actions. It makes you turn away from the goals of this life. And it makes you feel love and compassion for all beings.
The Buddha himself, pointing out how important it is to recognize suffering, started each of the teachings of the three turnings of the wheel of Dharma with these words: “Monks, this life is suffering.”
Put it into practice until you become completely convinced and certain of it.
I see that samsdra is suffering, but crave it still.
I fear the abyss of the lower realms, but continue to do wrong.
Bless me and those who have gone astray like me
That we may sincerely renounce the things of this life.
Jigme Gyalwai Nyugu
(Patrul Rinpoche’s perfect teacher. Patrul Rinpoche heard his explanation of the Heart-essence of the Vast Expanse many times, and claimed that The Words of My Perfect Teacher was nothing more or less than a faithful compendium of what he had heard on those different occasions.)
Jetsun Trakpa Gyaltsen (1147-1216)
A great scholar and early teacher of the Sakya school.