The Wisdom of Kindness

Sunday January 28, 2007

Despite spending most of her life pursuing enlightenment, Ani
Tenzin Palmo, one of the first Westerners to be ordained as a
Tibetan Buddhist nun, gives remarkably straightforward advice

VASANA CHINVARAKORN

This scene could be a projection of the mind - a cut from an
on-going movie that has been recycled again and again. But to
have Ani Tenzin Palmo playing a role in it, with an immaculately
clean kitchen filled with nuns and lay women at Suan Mokkh
forest monastery as the setting, makes this a scenario no film
director could have conceived or even dreamed of.

And yet here she is, sitting snugly on a plastic chair, chatting,
gesturing and laughing her hearty, joyous laugh.

Although there are differences in language and robe colour
of the "cast", the 63-year-old Tibetan Buddhist nun seems
to be mingling well with her new Thai friends. This is not
surprising given these friends share Tenzin Palmo's gender and,
more importantly, her aspiration to attain enlightenment -
if not in this lifetime then in one of the numerous sequels
they believe are likely follow.

That's exactly the message that the venerable bhikkuni
(female monk) repeated throughout her recent whirl-wind tour
of Thailand. "Don't waste your time," she urged the different
groups she spoke to, be they Thais or foreigners meditating
at Suan Mokkh, business people in Bangkok, Mae Chi students at
Mahapajapati Buddhist College for nuns in Nakhon Ratchasima or
the general public at retreats held in Nakhon Nayok and Chiang
Mai. To all she stressed the importance of nurturing a constant
state of mindfulness.

"Don't waste your human birth, for if you do, the opportunity
may not come again for many, many lifetimes.

"When I discovered the Buddha-dharma through a course [which
was] actually on Thai Buddhism, when I was 18, I recognised
immediately that this is the only thing in the world that is
important. Therefore, I decided I should try to lead a life that
would not distract me from the main point of Buddha-dharma:
To attain enlightenment as much as one can in one's lifetime
in order to benefit others, because what else could matter?"


Tenzin Palmo has lived her life in pursuit of what she now
teaches. In 1964, aged 20, she left her home in London to
undertake a spiritual journey in India. A year later, shortly
after meeting her Tibetan guru, the late eighth Khamtrul
Rinpoche, Tenzin Palmo was ordained as a novice. (She received
full bhikkuni ordination in 1973.) In the following years
she diligently studied both Tibetan Buddhist philosophy and
the myriad rituals and meditation techniques of Vajrayana
Buddhism. At one time, she was the only nun practicing at a
temple of 100 monks.

Her journey has been far from easy. Cave in the Snow, Tenzin
Palmo's biography, written by journalist Vicki Mackenzie,
details the patriarchal atmosphere within the Tibetan monastic
community (a situation found in many Buddhist countries). In
1970, she received permission from her guru to move to another
temple in the Himalayan valley of Lahaul.

After spending six years at that snow-bound land, Tenzin Palmo
took a radical step on her quest for enlightenment: She began a
solitary retreat in a cave 4,000 metres above sea level. For 12
years, the final three in strict isolation, she led a rugged,
precarious existence surviving on basic foods in the sparsest
conditions while enduring the extreme weather of the Himalayas.

Now, in the dimmed light of the kitchen at Suan Mokkh, such a
legendary feat seems a lifetime away. But is it really? The
topics of Tenzin Palmo's chats with the nuns and upasikas
(lay practitioners) here range from Hollywood movies like
Groundhog Day (she thinks it's a very Buddhist film) and The
Matrix (much too violent), to how to achieve a balance between
spiritual retreats and community work and whether living in a
cave really helps get rid of one's ego.

Tenzin Palmo's serene, light-hearted persona belies her
incredible internal strength. Despite her frail health and the
packed schedule of her recent visit - almost every day she had to
travel, give dharma lectures and answer difficult questions on
spirituality - Tenzin Palmo maintains her lucid sharpness. And
her immense kindness also. Every now and then, when she senses
anguish or a need for solace, she approaches one of the women
she's chatting with and gives them a bear hug. This motherly
embrace is the manifestation of kalayanamitta (true friendship).

"That's why you need a female monk," she says after hugging a
woman in tears. "Because [male] monks can't do that."


In serenity there is liveliness _ Tibetan Buddhist nun Tenzin
Palmo stresses that the true, original nature of the mind is
`luminous, vast and cognitive'. The realisation of this truth,
she says, will enlighten one to the interconnectedness of life
and to the value of putting others before oneself.

This casual giving of love is mixed with an indescribable sense
of non-attachment, an awareness of space that enables Tenzin
Palmo to accommodate others but never cling to them. During her
lecture at Suan Mokkh (where she was offered the prestigious
speaker's seat once occupied by the monastery's late founder,
Buddhadasa Bhikkhu), Tenzin Palmo told a story about her mother's
love as an example of a love that does not bind.

"When I was 19 years old, I wanted to go to India to find
a spiritual teacher. Finally, I got an invitation letter. I
remember running along the road to meet my mother as she was
coming from work and saying to her 'I'm going to India!' And
she replied 'Oh yes dear, when are you leaving?' Because she
loved me, she was happy for me to leave her."

She went on to explain the moral of the story. "We mistake love
and attachment. We think they are the same thing, but actually,
they are opposites. Love is 'I want you to be happy.' Attachment
is 'I want you to make me happy."'

Tenzin Palmo's dharma talks are simple yet moving because every
word she says is tinged with sincerity. As she speaks, her
words seem to spring from within through a process as natural
as breathing. In a way she is like a tree, sucking in pollution
and harm and releasing it as positive energy.

How does she maintain this crisp state of awareness? To be
"in" but not "of" the world? One analogy Tenzin Palmo often
uses is to compare one's existence to a movie. Most people let
themselves become completely immersed in the drama that is their
life. But if you take a step back, you can see a completely
different picture.

"What you've got, really, is just a projector of light and
in front of that light are little transparent frames that
are moving very, very fast. And that projects what looks like
reality. When we see that it's just a movie, we can still enjoy
it, but we don't have to take it so seriously."

The cultivation of mindfulness, she says, can enable us
to see "through" the rapid movement of those "frames of
thought". Once we master this practice, the "mind moments"
will become remarkably slower, slow enough for us to catch the
gaps between each frame.

And what lies beneath the illusory "truth" of the mind? Tenzin
Palmo describes the presence of the true, original mind ("Buddha
nature") as the sky stripped of clouds or a mirror without
dirt. Something clear, luminous, and infinite. "It's always
there, it belongs to everybody. There is no 'I', no centre."

But for most of us most of the time, we are trapped in our
relative mind. A mind that "naturally makes a division between
the thinker and everyone outside the thinker. That thinks in
terms of past, present and future.

"The point is to get some glimpses of the clear blue sky behind
the clouds or the mirror beneath the dirt. So even though there's
thick layers of clouds or dirt, you know that it's not the real
thing and that there's something beyond that.

"When we are completely in this state of naked primordial
awareness all the time, 24 hours a day, whether we are awake or
asleep, we become Buddha. Until then, we are still on the path."

But do we all have to cocoon ourselves in a cave in order to
seek enlightenment? From her experience, Tenzin Palmo describes
intense solitary retreat as a "a pressure cooker. It gives you
the chance to really look inwards." But, if the practitioner
becomes addicted to the quiet atmosphere or thinks they have
become superior to others, then "the practice has gone wrong",
she says.

For Tenzin Palmo, true dharma is found in daily life. It is the
ability to "be here and now and put others before oneself. This
helps us to overcome our innate selfishness and our innate
concern with only me, me, me."

One story she often shares tells of an invaluable piece of
advice she received from a Catholic priest. Asked if he thought
Tenzin Palmo should resume her retreat or undertake the far
more formidable task of starting a nunnery (see sidebar),
the priest straight away recommended the second option.

"He said we are like rough pieces of wood. If we rub ourselves
with silk or velvet, it may be nice, but it won't make us
smooth. To become smooth, we need sandpaper."

Minutes pass into hours. At some point, Tenzin Palmo closed
her eyes while still sitting in the same plastic chair. It has
been an exhaustingly long day for her. But is the venerable
monk sleeping? Or is she meditating like she did for most
of her time in the mountains 20 years ago? The two frames of
possibility almost merge, almost transcend the boundaries of
space and time. Which is real? And which is just a projection
from the perpetually rolling film of the mind?


Source: http://www.bangkokpost.com/Outlook/28Jan2007_out001.php