The first time I stayed overnight at the Samye Ling, in 1988, I was speaking to one of the guys who worked in the office about writing The Real McCoy, a radio play, over lunch one day. I told him I wouldn't have written it if I hadn't started meditating. He wanted me to have a chat with Dr Akong, the guy who was in charge of the place because of this. He said I should call him Rinpoche. I asked what that meant. He said Precious One. I said why should I call him that. He said it's just polite. I didn't, as it turned out, call him anything.
The Domestic Bliss's brother had been down there before me and told me he'd spoken to this guy and found him to be crabbit, but I jokingly thought to myself that maybe he didn't know how to speak to a Living Buddha and I'd have a go.
We are the northern ice warriors and we're not crawling up anyone's arse. All this stuff that gave having a guru a bad name is Indian, hindu. It's devotional. It's servile and I really don't like it. I don't think it suits our temperament. We're all Jock Tamson's Bairns in this neck of the woods, as far as I'm concerned, and that accords with my kind of buddhism. Everyone has a buddha nature, and it's just that some of us have realised it more than others.
He asked me if I'd come up from London, and I thought that's cool, he's not clairvoyant anyway. I told him I'd come from Edinburgh. He got up and walked about in this dowdy, dingy shambles of a manor house front room and I told him I was pleased that I could be there and not smoke fags since you're not supposed to smoke there. (You can, down by the river. I didn't know that, just as well!) He turned from slowly walking towards the window and gave me this really strange popeyed kind of look, which was a bit weird, but I ignored it. I told him I was pleased he'd come to Scotland and that was that.
I must have a fine conceit of myself. I'm not impressed by famous people and I didn't know who he was. I only really knew much about him when I read Born In Tibet by Chogyam Trunpa. I'd avoided reading this because of Chogyam's future career. If anyone was mad, bad and dangerous to know, but what do I know? The Chogy boy displayed all the signs you are supposed to when you die apparently. Days and days with the heart still warm and all. I only read Born in Tibet this year. Still, drinking yourself to death is okay if you're Brendan Behan, but a Rinpoche ....
When Chogy left the Samye Ling, it was down the Dr Akong. After a while, his wee brother got himself sorted out and became the Abbot. Being from here, I thought he was the man.
I got interested in Tibetan Buddhism by reading Anagarika Govinda. One of his books is The Way of the White Clouds. His guru was Tomo Geshe, a Tibetan he met when he was at a conference as a Theravadin monk. There was an abbot in that monastery where Tomo Geshe stayed, after spending twelve years meditating in the wilds, but when it came to giving initiations, Tomo Geshe got wheeled out. This was the kind of thing that was happening at the Samye Ling. I had four empowerments there and they were all given by Dr Akong.
After speaking to some of the nutters who washed up around the fringes of the Samye at the time, I was happy to go down there and speak to no one. I wanted a place where I could practise meditation and would check in with The Gatekeeper (Jurme) and not speak hardly to anyone else till I left, maybe a week later. I loved it. Nobody asked you any questions. You were left alone.
I took refuge with his wee brother and waited to see if the meditations got any better. One day I was sitting meditating in the temple when this ceremony started up. Dr Akong was giving refuge. During his wee talk, he said you didn't have to get a new name, etc., and since I just happened to be sitting there, I took refuge with him. This should give you some kind of karmic connection. The only other person I've taken refuge with is the wee nun on the Holy Isle.
One night about seven or eight years ago, he gave a Medicine Buddha initiation in the Royal College of Physicians here in Edinburgh. Beautiful setting, beautifully set out. He was a Medicine Buddha man first and foremost, I think. After that, I started using the Medicine Buddha instead of Dorje Semper, which is the deity yoga juju I was supposed to be doing at the time. Loved that night. I'll never forget it.
One day I was down there with the Domestic Bliss at an initiation and she said she'd take a blessing, which you can go up and get if you don't want the initiation. So there's a big line of folk for this as you wait to go passed the man and get the blessing and all. Folk have got the white scarves to hand over and all that, but we're not doing any of that. I was very surprised that the Domestic Bliss was going forward to get a blessing at all. He's sitting there on the throne thing and as we are just about there. She's standing in front of me and just as he came to the part when he was going to bless her, I shouted out spontaneously, mentally, Give her mine as well! He suddenly kind of jolted and stared at me for a moment and then went on ...
Warm, unassuming, unpretentious .. he just went about his bodhisattva business. .
Scotland has never had an immigrant like that before. It says something great about our karma that we got him at all. I almost missed him. I'm gutted for the folk who knew him for what he was. It's just dawning on me what a disaster this is for us and we don't even know it.
We're like snow slipping off a dyke. Shame to waste the time, but I'm going to get drunk and stoned now!
That answers some of my questions about how you're getting on. Just a few perplexities:
ReplyDelete"Down the Dr Akong" is clearly a euphemism, but for toilets or death?
The comment box seized up before I could continue. Oh well.
ReplyDelete