Tibetan Monk Quotes

Dear David, Are you a Tibetan monk yet? I used to hate you because you didn't love me so much you would give up your whole life for me. I expect this of every man. In retrospect, I realize that I was also selfish: I should have stopped making demands that you not be the closet female-hating sadist you are.

The Tibetan monks make mandalas out of dyed sand laid out into big, beautiful designs. And when they’re done, after days or weeks of work, they wipe it all away. They let it all go, no pain, no regrets. That is happiness. That is bliss. The euphoria of Nirvana. We live for that. Just for the experience. We paint a picture and we erase it.

This is Poyo. Poyo was exposed to a near-lethal amount of radiation as an egg, during the first stages of a government experiment to create mutant super soldiers--trained in exotic martial arts technique by Tibetan Kung Fu fightin' monks--and given strange bio-enhancements during a rash of farm animal abductions by extra-terrestrials. Nah, just kidding. None of that shit is true. Poyo is just really, really bad ass.

My maroon robes, yellow shirt, and shaved head identified me as a Tibetan Buddhist monk, a lama by profession—a perfect disguise for the disorderly mix of curiosity, anxiety, and confidence that accompanied my every heartbeat—and who in so many ways was still seeking the answer to my father’s question: Who is Mingyur Rinpoche?

I re-traced your footsteps to that miserable little Tibetan monastery. It was hard to get the monks to talk, what with that vow of silence and all – and how do you threaten someone who regards death as a promotion?

The Chatham’s lobby décor was modern, serene, and understated—dignified hipster meets Tibetan monk—but the heavy police presence outside the sparkling glass doors was ruining the carefully curated Zen atmosphere. Even the potted orchids looked stressed out.

Every culture has death rituals with the power to shock the uninitiated and challenge our personal web of significance—from the Wari’ roasting the flesh of their fellow tribesmen to the Tibetan monk torn apart by the beaks of vultures to the long, silver trocar stabbing Cliff’s intestines. But there is a crucial difference between what the Wari’ did and the Tibetans do with their deceased compared to what Bruce did to Cliff. The difference is belief. The Wari’ had belief in the importance of total bodily destruction. Tibetans have the belief that a body can sustain other beings after the soul has left it. North Americans practice embalming, but we do not believe in embalming. It is not a ritual that brings us comfort; it is an additional $900 charge on our funeral bills. If embalming were something a tradesman like Bruce would never perform on his own mother, I wondered why we were performing it on anyone at all.

Drawing from the costumed and goth-infused death metal found in the icy Netherlands, doom metal down-tuned all the guitars, drew inspiration from the drones of Tibetan monks and Hindu ragas, and created a new mythology of metal, one that embraced decay and darkness as an essential part of the human condition.

The atoms in my head were spinning apart; the sparkle of the bump had already begun to turn, apprehension and disquiet moving in subtly like dark air before a thunderstorm. For a long, somber moment we looked at each other: high chemical frequency, solitude to solitude, like two Tibetan monks on a mountaintop.

Actually, everything is in-between.

The result of your labor—the thing you take so much pride in—is shit. Literally, shit. Your work is something that the customer will later flush down a toilet. You may as well be a Tibetan monk who spends weeks constructing an elaborate sand mandala only to sweep it away immediately. (Unfortunately, cooking will not provide you with any of the same spiritual rewards.)

Guided death meditation is something I usually do with healthy people who want to understand how to help those who are terminally ill. But I think it might help Win a little; bring her some peace. The meditation was developed by Joan Halifax and Larry Rosenberg, based on the nine contemplations of dying—written by Atisha, a highly revered Tibetan monk, in the eleventh century.

In what is now known as Bodh Gaya…a Buddhist temple stands beside an ancient pipal, descended from that bodhi tree, or “enlightenment tree,” and I watched the rising of the morning star and came away no wiser than before. But later I wondered if the Tibetan monks were aware that the Bodhi tree was murmuring with gusts of birds, while another large pipal, so close by that it touched the holy tree with many branches, was without life. I make no claim for the event: I simply declare what I saw at Bodh Gaya.

Transience I am the perfect chalk art Mona Lisa dispossessed by summer rain. I am the fastidious Mandala-offering swept away by Tibetan monks after prayer. I am a cloud clinging to a lofty mountain dissipated by the listless afternoon sun. I am the American President elect a fading snapshot of fleeting mass delusions. I am the victim of temporal pleasure uprooted by woes without end. Iam beauty evanescent withering with each tick of the clock. I have become all my dreams which have turned to torments as they were the smug vanities of mere flesh and blood.

The doctor paused, thought for a moment, and then said, “That is a good question. Sometimes evil knows that people will promptly reject evil, so it disguises itself as good and then attacks good as if it were evil. In the confusion, evil can accomplish its mission. Does that make sense?” For me as a Buddhist, this actually did make sense.

The book speaks for itself, leaps up at one from every page, brilliant and loving. But notice the characters: in the lama Kipling’s daimon ran away with him to create an immortal, wise, old holy man. He is really the decisive creation in Kim, even more important than Kim himself. And that is revealing: it means that Kipling’s creative genius was more powerful and compelling than his cerebral intentions. For the character of the lama flowered into a creation of unforgettable moral beauty: the holy man incarnates the patience, the wisdom of the East, the subjugation of self, the fully achieved human spirit. Though the lama is an old Tibetan monk, he is really India, he speaks for the East.

Resist nothing. Like the Tibetan monk who once told me that he found peace by saying yes to all that happened. I met him again years later and reminded him of what he’d said. He laughed. “Perhaps,” he said. “It does fit with my life philosophy.” He had a lightness to him that is rare. His laugh, genuine. I almost expected him to levitate. If you think about it, how much time do we spend in our heads wishing things were another way, beating ourselves up, beating others up, crafting a different past, wishing for a different future? All of that is resistance. All of that is pain. Peace is letting it be. Letting life flow, letting emotions flow through you. If you don’t fight them, they pass through quickly and you feel better.

Every culture has death rituals with the power to shock the uninitiated and challenge our personal web of significance—from the Wari’ roasting the flesh of their fellow tribesmen to the Tibetan monk torn apart by the beaks of vultures to the long, silver trocar stabbing Cliff’s intestines. But there is a crucial difference between what the Wari’ did and the Tibetans do with their deceased compared to what Bruce did to Cliff. The difference is belief. The Wari’ had belief in the importance of total bodily destruction. Tibetans have the belief that a body can sustain other beings after the soul has left it. North Americans practice embalming, but we do not believe in embalming. It is not a ritual that brings us comfort; it is an additional $900 charge on our funeral bills.

Scientists have discovered that every cell in the human body also contains an electrical charge. Tibetan Buddhist monks who practice the Bön tradition of Tum-mo meditation have learned to focus these cellular charges to warm their bodies during bitterly cold winters. Researchers in England have discovered that by controlling the output of cellular charges in our bodies, humans can not only create heat but treat many chronic diseases.

As on any scale or spectrum, both ends have their poster-boy hall-of-famers. At one end we have the Sutcliffes, and Lecters, and Bundys – the Rippers, and Slashers, and Stranglers. While at the other we have the antipsychopaths: elite spiritual athletes like Tibetan Buddhist monks, who, through years of black-belt meditation in remote Himalayan monasteries, feel nothing but compassion. In fact, the latest research from the field of cognitive neuroscience suggests that the spectrum might be circular . . . that across the neural dateline of sanity and madness, the psychopaths and anti-psychopaths sit within touching distance of each other. So near, and yet so far.

Tibetan Dreams The sage blue sky awakens before the earth which slumbers a bit longer to still the chill of her bones and dream until the sun peeks hot through her cragged peaks bestirring weary monks to the swirl of their yak butter tea. Monks meditate upon this whorl which echoes the birth of galaxies, the twist of DNA, the curlicue of hair at the back of an infant’s head, eddying clockwise like Buddha’s journey, winding like a prayer wheel, in the resonance ofinterconnection. Bells tinkle, bowls sing, incense suffuses hints of heaven, rainbows of Jingfan prayer flags clap wildly in the wind, waving me to my quest, to surge forward, to trek to higher and higher ground -- to the rarefied air that is my mind.

Psychologists working with the Tibetan community in exile have noted the remarkable resiliency and joyfulness among the people, even though many are survivors of great trauma and loss. Most surprising are the responses of nuns and monks who have been imprisoned and tortured. According to a study by Harvard psychologists, many show few or none of the ordinary signs of trauma, but instead have deepened in compassion and joyful appreciation of life. Their trainings in loving-kindness, compassion, and wisdom led them to pray for their enemies. One old lama recounted that over the twenty years of prison and torture, his only true fear was that he would lose his compassion and close his heart. If we want to understand optimal mental health, these monks and nuns are a striking example.

What are the path of love and the path of meditation? There are basically two different paths to enlightenment. These two paths are The path of love and The path of meditation. The path of love is the female path to enlightenment and The path of meditation is the male path to enlightenment. The path of love is the path of love, joy, relationships, devotion and surrender. The path of meditation is the path of meditation, silence, aloneness and freedom. These two paths has different ways, but they have the same goal. Through love and surrender the person that walks The path of love discovers the inner silence. Through meditation and aloneness the person that walks The path of meditation discovers the inner source of love. These two paths are like climbing the mountain of enlightenment through different routes, but the two paths are meeting on the summit of the mountain - and discover an inner integration between love and meditation, between relating and aloneness. Before I accept to work with a student now, I make an intuitive and clairvoyant evaluation about which spiritual paths that the student has walked before in previous lives. This intuitive assessment gives information about the spiritual level that the student has attained, and it also makes it easier to guide the person spiritually if he has followed a certain path in the past. A female student of mine laughed recently when I told her that she had followed The path of love in several past lives. She commented: "You have told me three times now that I have walked the path of love and silence, but with my head I still do not understand it." But this overall assessment of her spiritual growth uptil now, and of the spiritual paths that she had walked, made all the pieces of her life puzzle fit together - and brought a new, creative light to all her life choices in her current life. A male student of mine, who was a Tibetan monk in a previous life, walks The path of meditation, and I notice how I change my language and the methods that I recommend when I guide him along the path of meditation. I now work with students who walk both The path of love and The path of meditation, which also allows me to discover a deeper integration of love and meditation on my path to enlightenment.

Lifting the Vibration of Your Mental Field Sound In your meditations use the vibration of sacred chants to create a force field of sound vibration in and around you. The AUM chant is very powerful and has been used by initiates for centuries. Start by breathing in. Very slowly make the sound of A and gradually merge it with the sound of U. Hold that sound and then bring in the M sound. When you have finished keep your eyes closed and feel the vibration of the sound all around you. Start again, repeating the chant. You can do this for as long as you like. Purchase a Tibetan Monk Chanting compact disc or tape. Play it as you meditate. To raise the mental energy in your home, have it playing throughout your house for a day. If there have been arguments in your home or you have been feeling a little down at home, play the sounds on repeat throughout the house until you start to feel the energy lift. You may find that other types of music have a similar effect. Always choose what works for you. For example, the beat of tribal drums, the high notes of an opera singer, or the sacred Aboriginal sounds of the didgeridoo. Use these sounds often as they are exceptional tools for raising mental vibration.

Accustomed to the habit of gathering a little of what I have heard. If [what I have written] somehow enters the door of a wise person, intent on learning, Then the fruit of my labor will have been achieved. For the smiles of the stupid and the approval of the rich, I have never yearned even in my dreams. When

No matter what sorrow or happiness may come to us on account of external and internal conditions, we must not be depressed or joyous about them. They occur through the karma of our previous actions. These sorrows and happinesses will also change and end. So look at it like this: When we have illness, the sorrows of parting from beloved friends, the theft of our possessions, when we are ridiculed by others and they say unpleasant things, we must not get stuck in the sorrow and become depressed, saying: “It isn’t right that these things happen to me.”               These sorts of experiences that are difficult to bear do not occur on account of extenuating conditions in our present life. In previous lifetimes we did the evils that are the cause for it to happen that we experience these kinds of things.               Specifically,

When the conditions we set up through our own bad karma from the past make every sentient being experience karmas of sorrow, we get additional bad karma, and when we do things that are harmful to others we will have immeasurable sorrows in the future. So we take a vow:   From now on, Even if I lay down my life, I will not do evil in general, And specifically, I will not harm others.   To

Yet they are the same as poisonous snakes When they dictate things like Massacre, whipping, torture, and plunder, Imprisoning rulers and confiscating possessions. These

This idea is reminiscent of an idea put forth by Tibetan monks, who believe that when you die, you should be sitting up because consciousness exits the body at the highest point, and if it leaves from your head, you will be most conscious, which will enable you to have greater influence over your reincarnation. It was impossible to say with certainty whether he had ever read or heard about this Tibetan concept, or if it came to him from another source, or if it came to him from no source but his own. “Where did you get this idea?” I asked him. “It just seems right,” he said.

Seeing the monks humiliated, statues smashed, and paintings burned shook Tibetans to the core. Buddhism provided the rituals through which the seasons were measured, births celebrated, and deaths grieved. The monasteries were Tibetans’ museums, libraries, and schools. Whether or not you were a true believer in the faith, there was no denying that Tibetan Buddhism had inspired an artistry that some compared to the splendors of medieval Christendom. The attacks on religion alienated Tibetans who might otherwise have supported the Communist Party’s efforts to stamp out feudalism and create social equality.

The reasons why Ngaba led the plateau in self-immolation were obscure. Ngaba was not the worst-off town under Chinese rule. Its residents were wealthier than some others. The public facilities and infrastructure were much better than in many Tibetan towns in Qinghai province where sewage ran through open gutters of the streets and former nomads had been resettled in concrete boxes. Testifying before a U.S. congressional commission in 2011, Kirti Rinpoche suggested the reason was that Ngaba was the first place where Tibetans encountered the Chinese Communists in the 1930s. “The people of this region have a particular wound causing excessive suffering that spans three generations. This wound is very difficult to forget or heal,” Kirti Rinpoche testified. Daniel Berounský, a scholar who contributed a paper at the Paris conference, also pointed to the high level of political awareness at the monastery. “When taking into account the historical outline concerning the kings of Ngawa [Ngaba] and the Kīrti masters, it becomes apparent that the monks are strongly affected by their past history, which is seen as a golden time.” “A Tibetan Party official who penned a rare open letter published (and quickly removed) on a public forum blamed Shi Jun, the Party secretary for Ngaba prefecture. “Some called him the Lord of Demons, because he escalated small incidents into huge confrontations in order to secure his own advancement and to try to win brownie points,” wrote the official, who used his Chinese name, Luo Feng. He complained that Tibetan-speaking officials were excluded from promotion and that out of six hundred Party officials who had been recently promoted, only twenty spoke Tibetan. If you were Tibetan, you were an object of suspicion, Luo Feng wrote.

The second exercise is a favorite of Yogi Raman’s. He used to go an entire day without speaking, except in response to a direct question.” “Kind of like a vow of silence?” “Actually that’s exactly what it was, John. The Tibetan monks who popularized this practice believed that to hold one’s tongue for an extended period of time would have the effect of enhancing one’s discipline.

acquired a terrible reputation for abusing people who served them. The Bureau of Buddhist and Tibetan Affairs strongly defended the monks at court and imposed a host of special rights for them. At one point the bureau tried to enforce laws that stipulated that anyone who hit a monk would have his hand

The Parable of the Six Kinds of Beings There's a Buddhist parable that describes the generative, fictional function of awareness quite well. Here's how the 17th century Tibetan monk Ngawang Kunga Tenzin explained the parable: Ultimately there is nothing other than mind alone; nevertheless, because of delusion and karma it manifests as all kinds of things. This is similar to the different perceptions of water by the six kinds of beings. Water is indeed only one thing, but if the six kinds of beings were together at a river bank, when looking at it they would see it in different ways. A being of a hot hell would see a river of fire, while one from a cold hell would see it as snow and ice. For the hungry ghosts known as pretas it would be pus and blood. Animals who live underwater would see it as their abode, while those scattered on land would see it as drink. Humans would also see it as drink, and accordingly they would classify it into drinking or non-drinking water. The demigods called asuras would perceive it as weaponry. Gods would see it as nectar (amrita). So beings would see what we perceive as water in different ways according to their particular karmic perception and thus water becomes manifold. This is known as the karmic perception of one's mind. Ultimately things do not exist outside—they are only projections of the mind. —from The Royal Seal of Mahamudra, Volume One, A Guidebook for the Realization of Co-emergence

totally unconnected, as inscrutable as a Tibetan monk on quaaludes.

a wild and dangerous place where brigandage and battle were inextricably woven into a unique culture of warriors and monks. Decapitated heads ornamented the trees and gateposts. Severed hands festooned the government buildings. The Chinese and Tibetans skinned men alive, chopped them into chunks, and boiled them to death in giant cauldrons.1

Gegyen told us that the sound of the bell was the sounds of emptiness and represented feminine wisdom. Leaning back and squinting so that his eyes practically disappeared, he said, "All that appears as solid is merely appearing and has no essential nature. What we think of as real is like the places and people we see in dreams." Then he laughed, grinning toothlessly, and looked at us nodding, "Ok, let's do that again.

Apo Rinpoche had four children and a wonderful wife, and he had a wonderful sense of humor. When I told him I was having repeated dreams about a baby he laughed so hard he almost fell off his seat, and then he said, "All nuns should have babies." I didn't know quite how he meant this, and I continued to struggle with my decision until one day I told him I was having a lot sexual thoughts and feelings and that I really felt I could not continue as a nun. I asked him when he thought I should give back my vows. He said: "It depends how much longer you can wait!" Then he laughed so hard that tears were streaming down his face.

The teachings here really blur the lines, you know? I mean, the first thing that they do is tell you that there is no such thing as good and evil. They remove the boundaries between what you think is good and what you think is bad. After a while, everything is relative. From day one, we are taught that pain is the result of desire, and enlightenment is giving yourself over to where boundaries no longer exist. Oh yeah, they love that. That way, when you feel the pain of them raping you, it is your problem—not theirs!

Up north, where the air is cooler and crisper, quaint hill stations give way to snowcapped peaks. From Ladakh to Sikkim, the cultural influences came not from the coasts but via mountain passes. Tibetan Buddhism thrives, and multilayered monasteries emerge from the forest or steep cliffs as vividly and poetically as the sun rises over Khangchendzonga. Weathered prayer flags flutter in the wind, the soothing sound of monks chanting reverberates in meditation halls, and locals abound with holy offerings, all in the shadow of the mighty Himalaya.

May I never be chained by the lifestyle of a householder But attain Dharma wealth in the midst of ordained monks; Free of conceit, may I make offerings to the [Three] Jewels And look on all beings with [the eyes of] compassion.

China’s Koreans enjoy advantages denied to other minorities, which only reinforces the sense that Yanbian is more like a mini-state than just another autonomous area. The most notable of these is the right to education in their own language at school as well as college. Unlike in Xinjiang, where the government has closed down Uighur-only schools, or Xishuangbanna and Tibet, where the only way to study Dai or Tibetan is to become a monk, the Yanbian government actually funds schools that teach in Korean.

Talk about your ideal scenario, your philosophy, and anything you can think of. Would you like to burn incense and have your baby ushered into the world by a troupe of Tibetan monks? Great. Have your partner give birth standing on one foot while riding horseback? Have the delivery filmed live for a new reality show? Have the entire medical team speak only Mandarin Chinese so that your baby will be able to begin life bilingual? Have the baby licked clean by your pet schnauzer rather than cleaned up by the nurses? Wonderful.

Khubilai’s capital in China, Khanbalikh (also known as Ta-tu or Dadu), was symbolic of the way Mongol rulers amalgamated the diverse cultures, beliefs, and skills of their domains. In it were built a shrine for Confucians, an altar with Mongolian soil and grass from the steppes, and buildings of significant Chinese architectural influence. As historian Morris Rossabi points out, Khubilai “sought the assistance of Persian astronomers and physicians, Tibetan Buddhist monks” and “Central Asian [Muslim] soldiers.” One can only imagine it must have been a city of grand cosmopolitan dimensions.

As it turns out, woke activists are more easily appeased: to mollify them, Disney made the Tibetan monk a woman instead of a man, casting popular actress Tilda Swinton in the role.

Tibetan Buddhist nun Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo points out that we often mistake attachment for love. She says, “We imagine that the grasping and clinging that we have in our relationships shows that we love. Whereas actually, it is just attachment, which causes pain. Because the more we grasp, the more we are afraid to lose, then if we do lose, then of course we are going to suffer.” Ultimately, holding on to the wrong person causes us more pain than letting them go.

In longtime meditators, such as Tibetan monks who have meditated for over 10,000 hours, the parietal lobe shows greatly reduced activity during meditation. While the brain’s energy usage only fluctuates around 5% up or down each day, in these adepts it drops up to 40% as they enter an altered state of consciousness. People who are isolated and lonely show the opposite effect. Their parietal lobes may be highly active. Feelings of loneliness and isolation are increasing in our fragmented society, according to a number of studies, and they have detrimental effects on our health. We are social beings, and a sense of connectedness translates into overall physical and emotional well-being. In a meta-analysis of 148 studies with a total of 308,849 participants, the researchers found “a 50% increased likelihood of survival for participants with stronger social relationships. This finding remained consistent across age, sex, initial health status, cause of death, and follow up.” Even when the researchers corrected for behaviors such as smoking, obesity, and lack of exercise, the effect remained consistent. Think back to the times of your life when you were happiest. For most of us, special moments with family and friends come to mind. We may have been on vacation with loved ones or enjoying a meal or a joke with friends. It may have been singing carols during the holidays, when billions of people join in affirming “peace on earth, goodwill to men.” What’s common to all those happy times is that your attention was fully in the present moment, the “timelessness” of Chapter 2. You weren’t worrying about the past or stressing over the future, the way you might be doing if you didn’t have precious people to engage your thoughts. Time and space receded as the love-filled present occupied your attention. Only in the present moment can you escape the demon’s obsession with the mistakes of the past and the problems of tomorrow. Experiences of timelessness, as the parietal lobe shuts down, shape our perception of the world and how we act in it.

In longtime meditators, such as Tibetan monks who have meditated for over 10,000 hours, the parietal lobe shows greatly reduced activity during meditation. While the brain’s energy usage only fluctuates around 5% up or down each day, in these adepts it drops up to 40% as they enter an altered state of consciousness. People who are isolated and lonely show the opposite effect. Their parietal lobes may be highly active. Feelings of loneliness and isolation are increasing in our fragmented society, according to a number of studies, and they have detrimental effects on our health. We are social beings, and a sense of connectedness translates into overall physical and emotional well-being. In a meta-analysis of 148 studies with a total of 308,849 participants, the researchers found “a 50% increased likelihood of survival for participants with stronger social relationships. This finding remained consistent across age, sex, initial health status, cause of death, and follow up.” Even when the researchers corrected for behaviors such as smoking, obesity, and lack of exercise, the effect remained consistent. Think back to the times of your life when you were happiest. For most of us, special moments with family and friends come to mind. We may have been on vacation with loved ones or enjoying a meal or a joke with friends. It may have been singing carols during the holidays, when billions of people join in affirming “peace on earth, goodwill to men.” What’s common to all those happy times is that your attention was fully in the present moment, the “timelessness” of Chapter 2. You weren’t worrying about the past or stressing over the future, the way you might be doing if you didn’t have precious people to engage your thoughts. Time and space receded as the love-filled present occupied your attention. Only in the present moment can you escape the demon’s obsession with the mistakes of the past and the problems of tomorrow. Experiences of timelessness, as the parietal lobe shuts down, shape our perception of the world and how we act in it. A Stanford study of people who experienced “the deep now” found that it changed their behavior.

In longtime meditators, such as Tibetan monks who have meditated for over 10,000 hours, the parietal lobe shows greatly reduced activity during meditation. While the brain’s energy usage only fluctuates around 5% up or down each day, in these adepts it drops up to 40% as they enter an altered state of consciousness. People who are isolated and lonely show the opposite effect. Their parietal lobes may be highly active. Feelings of loneliness and isolation are increasing in our fragmented society, according to a number of studies, and they have detrimental effects on our health. We are social beings, and a sense of connectedness translates into overall physical and emotional well-being. In a meta-analysis of 148 studies with a total of 308,849 participants, the researchers found “a 50% increased likelihood of survival for participants with stronger social relationships. This finding remained consistent across age, sex, initial health status, cause of death, and follow up.” Even when the researchers corrected for behaviors such as smoking, obesity, and lack of exercise, the effect remained consistent. Think back to the times of your life when you were happiest. For most of us, special moments with family and friends come to mind. We may have been on vacation with loved ones or enjoying a meal or a joke with friends. It may have been singing carols during the holidays, when billions of people join in affirming “peace on earth, goodwill to men.” What’s common to all those happy times is that your attention was fully in the present moment, the “timelessness” of Chapter 2. You weren’t worrying about the past or stressing over the future, the way you might be doing if you didn’t have precious people to engage your thoughts. Time and space receded as the love-filled present occupied your attention. Only in the present moment can you escape the demon’s obsession with the mistakes of the past and the problems of tomorrow. Experiences of timelessness, as the parietal lobe shuts down, shape our perception of the world and how we act in it. A Stanford study of people who experienced “the deep now” found that it changed their behavior. They “felt they had more time available . . . and were less impatient . . . more willing to volunteer their time to help others . . . preferred experiences over material products . . . and experienced a greater boost in life satisfaction.” A quiet parietal lobe promotes empathy, compassion, relaxation, appreciation, connectedness, and self-esteem.

I’m not competitive, which I used to flatter myself was a sign of maturity, but I realized a few years ago it could also be arrogance. I just don’t care enough about what other people are doing to compete with them. I see myself not in competition with anybody but in partnership with the page itself. It’s the beauty of the work that interests me, even if, like Duchess Goldblatt, like a Tibetan monk’s sand painting, it’s ephemeral. I will make it as perfect as I can while I work on it, and it will not hurt my heart when the wind sweeps it all away.

As I read deeper in the Zen poets, I soon stumbled upon Ikkyū, the fifteenth-century sword-wielding monk of Daitokuji, who had entered a temple at the age of six and gone on to express his contempt for the corrupt monasteries of his time in famously controversial poems. Like the Sixth Dalai Lama, in his way, Ikkyū had been a patron - and a laureate - of the local taverns, and of the pretty girls he had found therein; and like his Tibetan counterpart, or John Donne in our own tradition, he had deliberately conflated the terms of earthly love with those of devotion to the Absolute. The very name he gave himself, "Crazy Cloud", had played subversively on the fact that "cloud water" was a traditional term for monks, who wandered without trace, yet "cloud rain" was a conventional idiom for the act of love. His image of the "red thread" ran through the austere surroundings of his poems as shockingly as the scarlet peonies of Akiko. And in his refusal to kowtow to convention, the maverick monk had turned every certainty on its head: whores, he said, could be like ideal monks - since they inhabited the ideal Zen state of "no min" - while monks, in selling themselves for gold brocade, were scarcely different from whores. Many of his verses trembled with this ambiguity. One couplet, taken one way, was translated as "Making distinctions between good and evil, the monk's skill lies in knowing the essential condition of the Buddha and the Devil"; taken another way, it meant: "That girl is no good, this one will do; the monk's skill is in having the appetite of a devilish Buddha.

Indian yogis train themselves to decrease the amount of air they take in at rest, not increase it. Tibetan Buddhists prescribed step-by-step instructions to reduce and calm breathing for aspiring monks. Chinese doctors two thousand years ago advised 13,500 breaths per day, which works out to nine and a half breaths per minute. They likely breathed less in those fewer breaths. In Japan, legend has it that samurai would test a soldier’s readiness by placing a feather beneath his nostrils while he inhaled and exhaled. If the feather moved, the soldier would be dismissed.

I was greatly impressed by Geshe-la's qualities-his personal solidity, the sharpness of his mind, his obvious mastery of his tradition-which were manifest in the crystal-clear teachings he gave.' I was also impressed by his confidence in the validity of his tradition, displayed in a readiness to discuss any question. Students could raise many questions, and Geshe-la always had an answer, usually a very good one, which he proposed on its own merits, not relying on the authority of the tradition or himself. Moreover, students, like grown-ups, were given the freedom to think for themselves. When they encountered difficult topics, such as reincarnation and karma, Geshe-la would advocate that they provisionally suspend judgment: "You will be able to form a better judgment later through more study and practice. For now, it does not matter; just go on studying and practicing." This attitude, which reflected a view that belief was not a precondition of religious engagement but rather derived from a reasoned inquiry into the tradition, contrasted favorably in my mind with the religious traditions I had been exposed to earlier.

Tesla claimed that scalar waves can cause changes in the course of time. - Since the human brain can produce these waves, there is the possibility of understanding all paranormal phenomenons, like levitation, remote communication, radionics, dowsing and others. - We can assume that some ancient civilizations have been using these remote communication possibilities with the help of telepathic messages of scalar waves of the brain, adding gravitational components to their thoughts and and spoken messages, while meditating, turning heavy prayer wheels, as well as those small spinning tops, the way Tibetan monks still do today as a part of their prayers. - Today we know that we can produce scalar waves with the Hieronymus machine. When this machine is working, common instruments and detectors don’t detect a thing, but people who are present feel very uncomfortable, with headaches, nausea, and very unpleasant vibrations inside the body, along with the appearance of obvious nervous disorders.

Refreshed, we rose before sunrise and walked in silence, spontaneously hand in hand, from the monastery, through the darkness, and down a dirt road to the Bodhi tree where the Buddha reached enlightenment. Sitting together in meditation under the branches, dawn broke to the resonance of monks chanting, an endless stream of prayers thousands of years old and echoing through the ages. That was the first time I came to know what the word love meant. The person, the place, and the moment all felt like finding home. It was pure magic.

Similar to the yogic tradition, in Tibetan Buddhism it is understood that the siddhis arise only after one is able to sustain the deep absorption of samadhi. However, it is also recognized that not everyone who meditates will be able to achieve samadhi, nor will the siddhis that do arise necessarily be stable. As Roney-Dougal explained: Tibetans separate two types of “clairvoyance.” They consider that the one Western parapsychologists research is a low-level ability that is unreliable and subject to fraud. Many people are considered to have this ability and Tibetans consider that it is an inherent ability resulting from past life karma, which could, however, benefit from training by meditation. The clairvoyance you attain after reaching Samadhi is a high level ability which is reliable. In interviews with various monks, it was stressed over and over again that only a few people attain Samadhi and clairvoyant abilities, and even then the clairvoyance is no more than 80% reliable. Omniscience arises only with full enlightenment. Not everyone who practices meditation will attain Samadhi, so not everyone who practices meditation will become psychic.

However, the Tibetan practice of tummo meditation, where tummo roughly means “inner fire,” cultivates a mind-body connection in which extreme cold that would quickly kill an untrained person can be comfortably tolerated for minutes to hours. Tummo meditation may be related to the yogic concept of kundalini energy, a life-force energy said to circulate within the body. When properly focused, yogic lore says that it’s possible to generate enough heat to sit still in freezing cold without harm. This claim was tested in Tibetan monks and confirmed by Harvard University’s Herbert Benson and his colleagues.158 While this ability is now known to be possible, the underlying mechanism remains a mystery.

To approach the finality of our bodies while paying no attention to the mini-deaths of daily life is like confusing diamonds with pebbles and throwing them away.