In 1997 Chagdud Rinpoche and the Sangha came to our home to celebrate Christmas because my father was going to dress up as Santa Claus and sing carols in German. A friend of mine was there with her five children and there were other children, too. After Christmas, we all went on a trip and did many things including rafting and visiting Santa Claus’ village.
At the end of the vacation, we asked the children what they had liked most and they replied that it had been the good old man with white beard. We asked, “Was it Santa
Claus?” And they all said “No.” They all liked Rinpoche best.
[As told by Monica]
November 14 dawned promising a sunny, beautiful day. Time was racing toward the
end of 2002 and our retreat was ripening after eight hundred days of constant practice,
learning to tame the mind. Perhaps our master, Chagdud Rinpoche, would visit us today!
The bamboo fence that kept us from the world was not enough to contain our gaze as we
looked out toward the road, longing for our master.
He did come! It was late in the afternoon and we hastened to welcome him. Smiling and
with loving words he went into the meditation room. Rinpoche was so beautiful, shining
intensely; he looked like a groom who had painstakingly prepared himself to visit his
bride. His red hat made him look even more gallant and his braided beard gave an elegant
touch to his face. Everything was perfect! We sat at his feet anxious to hear him, look at him, and be close to him. “Stay with us!” was my heart’s desire.
That day, Rinpoche stayed longer than usual. He gave teachings; he explained in detail
the most difficult teachings; he answered questions; he told stories; he played with us…
and we wanted more! It was dark when he left and his car disappeared slowly into the
darkness. We stood still at the gate, watching, watching.
His visit was sealed in our minds by a message that came the following morning: “Even
if I’m not here, my blessings will be with you!” Rinpoche died in the early hours of
November 17.
My Precious Master, I praise your life and your death!
[As told by Leda Volino]
In October of 1988, I began having very strong dreams and experiences about Alaska. I had never before thought about Alaska, but I found myself going to my boss and asking if there were any jobs available for me in Alaska (I was a traveling nurse). She had just received a request from Juneau, Alaska, so I said “Sign me up!”- not realizing how much my life would change!
A few months later, I was walking down a street in Juneau in the late afternoon, when I heard my name called. Snow was falling lightly I looked around, but but couldn’t see anyone, so I continued on my way. Again I heard my name called, more loudly, even insistently. Again I stopped, looked, and no one was around. But there was a poster on a telephone pole near me, about a Tibetan lama coming to Juneau—and he was staring right at me! I said to myself: “I guess I should check this out”. I wasn’t searching for a spiritual teacher at the time–I had done that years ago and was happy with who and what I was—but I decided to go nonetheless.
The next day, I rushed from work to to see this lama. He was already speaking when I arrived, and within a few minutes I was weeping as I listened to him speak about Red Tara. I had never heard such a description of “the feminine” and as he went on, I felt myself collapse from within. The next day I took refuge with that lama, Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche, and received Red Tara empowerment.
Rinpoche was leaving to teach in the Yukon,and I didn’t want to be separated from him so soon after our meeting. Rinpoche’s translator, Tsering Everest, agreed that I could accompany them. But our trip was delayed by a violent snow storm, ” the worst in a half century” and we hunkered down in a small apartment and waited for a callfrom the airline. Finally, at five in the morning, we got the call—and had just thirty minutes to take of so that we could fly through the “calm” eye of the storm.
We rushed to the airport and found waiting an old WWII, DC7 airplane with no heat. The stewardess, dressed in a very thick snowsuit, helped us up a rope ladder, offered us each two wool blankets and said we could sit anywhere–but sit soon, as we were leaving in four minutes! We spread out to window seats, except Lama Tsering, who huddled up in her long cape and wool blankets.
The ride was frightening, with heavy turbulence, but Rinpoche laughed the whole time, and his laughter calmed me–if the Lama was laughing, surely there was nothing to be afraid of! We arrived in Whitehorse with the smoothest landing I’d ever experienced—hardly a bump as we slid across the airstrip sideways! We were picked up in a great big Kat machine with tractor treads.
Rinpoche, in his Tibetan winter clothes & fur hat, followed after the pilot and made sure he would stay over to fly us back to Juneau. “You good pilot!!” Rinpoche told him.
That weekend the Whitehorse sangha opened their homes and hearts to us. I felt as if they were all my brothers and sisters and that feeling has continued to this day. In fact, no matter where in the world I’ve been with any of Rinpoche’s sangas, the feeling has always been the same–that I am with my sangha family, It is a testament to Rinpoche’s love and compassion for all of us that we shine with the same love and compassion for each other, and for anyone we meet.
In the 60′s and 70′s, when I was looking for a teacher, I understood that you could tell tell a lot about a teacher by looking at the qualities of goodness developed in his or her students. I always know that I can find Rinpoche, and his qualities, in my big ,wonderful Dharma family!
Thank you, Rinpoche, for yelling at me and getting my attention that afternoon. I missed you so much when you moved to Brazil, and how I envied the Brazilians! But I also learned that you are in my heart and in my dreams, as I know I am in yours.
Over the years, as I’ve done my practice and my work, silently asking Rinpoche’s help, and dedicating merit, I have finally been able to quiet my yearning for Rinpoche’s physical presence—and my jealousy for the lucky Brazilians who could be with him—and filled myself with happy joyfulness at how Rinpoche was able to accomplish and bring to fruition so many of his aspirations in Brazil. What greater lesson could he have taught me?
[as told by Pat Martin]
The first time I got in touch with Khadro Ling was in 1998, when I was doing a photography assignment for college. Actually, that first contact also happened due to my family connections. My sister Cinthia, my brother Maurício and their children were living near the Khadro Ling and they took part in the activities there. At that time, the construction of the temple was just starting, with a few homes around, a kitchen, a small dining hall and a meditation room that today serves as a dormitory.
The first time I saw Rinpoche, I was awed by his concentration, wisdom and discipline in conducting ceremonies. However, this first impression of “fear” soon faded away. One day, when he noticed I was sitting too far from everyone else to watch the ceremony, he looked directly at me and made a gesture, calling me, waving so that I would sit near the others. That small act showed his compassion and sensitivity, since I was really feeling awkward where I was.
The second remarkable moment I had with Rinpoche was when I bought a mala at Khadro Ling’s store. The person who sold me that gave me a series of recommendations about how to use a mala and also told me it would be very auspicious if I took it to Rinpoche to bless it.
After checking with my sister, who was living there, whether that was really necessary, I came to Rinpoche. When I got to his room, it was Andréa (Lama Sherab) who received me; she was carrying in her arms a small poodle dog, Snowy. She asked me to sit in front of Rinpoche and he immediately started to talk to me in English, which I could not understand at the time. That made me very ashamed of myself, more than I already was before.
The sensation of sitting in front of him for the first time was the same as if I were completely naked. It is hard to explain. I was impressed by the simplicity in the way he looked and saw through my masks. All my thoughts about “being approved,” “being accepted or not,” “desire of buying a mala,” all my inner confusion about choosing a spiritual path are concepts I am only able to see clearly now. However, to Rinpoche, all of that seemed to be very clear at that moment. His experience in observing and contemplating the mind offered this realization of being able to see in us something we ourselves were not even aware we were feeling.
Then, through Lama Sherab’s translation, he started to ask me where that mala had been made and where I had bought it. He had a look of disapproval on his face. It was a little funny, because I said I had bought it right there, at Khadro Ling’s store. He said it was not good, it was not right. And, surprisingly, he cut loose the mala beads and started to redo it with a thread he asked Lama Sherab to fetch.
That interview, which was supposed to last fifteen minutes, extended to forty minutes of waiting and cold sweat, because I didn’t know what to do, what to say, or where to put my hands. I kept patting Snowy, who also seemed to have noticed how uncomfortable I was. Wisely, Rinpoche made me wait for a precious time, he made me stop and watch my own mind. There was nothing to be done there, no word to be said; however, I had a thousand thoughts, and this I can only realize now. That was why I always felt ashamed in front of him: my real thoughts and actions when I acquired that object, which he seemed to see clearly.
As the years went by, while helping, listening, watching and contemplating everything that Rinpoche and the community taught and did, I was able to perceive and identify his compassion, his generosity and his love in tireless teaching until the last day of his life. His example in diligence, patience and wisdom bring alive his presence in the minds and the hearts of those who had the precious opportunity of meeting his enlightened manifestation.
[As told by Vivian Clark]
Rinpoche was tireless in caring for his students. This was not only shown at the time of Parinirvana, when he was teaching until the last instant of his life; it was evident in each and every contact we had with him. The first time Rinpoche visited Porto Alegre, he taught for an entire weekend – it was a workshop about the Six Perfections – and at the end he conferred refuge vows to a quite large audience. Then he said he would confer a Ngondro initiation, which would be “only for those who were interested in continuing with the practice”; almost everyone who had been there for the weekend took the initiation.
Everything was so new to us, a group of Zen students used to austerity and simplicity of Zen. The initiation was certainly unique for us; we were in a crowded room, shoulder to shoulder, with people outside sitting on the stairs, in the kitchen, anywhere people could sit. It was so crowded you couldn’t move. And there was Rinpoche, conferring initiations, teaching about the Four Thoughts, conducting Tsog, and this display was ornamented by two translations: one from his English into English and the other into Portuguese.
I cannot remember exactly when everything was over, but it was some time early Monday morning, and I, “virtually Zen,” was so tired!! Rinpoche however, remained patient and present, as firm as a mountain, and revealed himself tireless and fearless – of course; after all, he was Rinpoche – discussing the issue of whether to eat meat with a Zen audience that was a little biased against this kind of diet.
After some turns in my life, I had the opportunity of seeing Rinpoche and with his compassionate hook, he again reached out to me right where I was, in the middle of samsara. I spent some time working at Três Coroas and I remember once when we were preparing for a Drubchen in the Shrine Room, I went to ask a question of someone although I was supposed to be watching someone on a scaffold… Rinpoche saw that the scaffolding needed to be moved and, before I realized it, he was there, pushing it with the other person on it. I stepped in and stopped Rinpoche to move the heavy scaffold myself. Although the arms were mine, the strength was Rinpoche’s – I am not very strong person, but I had no difficulty in accomplishing the task!
On another occasion we were working intensely inside the temple, rolling mantras. One person rolled the papers and someone else would apply saffron water to them. I was applying saffron water when I realized Rinpoche had come close and started to roll mantras. Despite the physical difficulties he had, he was very fast, very intense, he had a strength that was as broad as his motivation in benefiting all beings! His strength was greater than any strength I was able to have right then and by the end Rinpoche was laughing joyously, and I was SO tired, probably gasping with my tongue out!
These are visible, manifest situations, of Rinpoche’s tirelessness and strength. However, when I think about how, time and again he taught me so much, and about every time he must have looked at me and realized he had to teach me again, over and over, until my thick head would allow some change, I see he that he was tireless beyond what our eyes could see.
And even more, when I think about all the people who practice the dharma and who got close to it thanks to the activities and accomplishments of Rinpoche I can see even when he is no longer physically among us, he is still the same: tireless.
[As told by Luciano Ribeiro]
One afternoon during mantra recitations at a retreat, Riponche began talking about generosity. He said we should practice generosity, that it could be good for all of us. He said we should try to give away something we have. If we do not have a lot, we can still donate a little of what we have. He said we always have something to give; we only have to want to give. We can give a smile, help someone.
However, if we still think we have nothing to donate, we should look around, see the beauty of nature and generously offer this gift of nature offers us: the trees, the flowers, the valley. If there isn’t so much beauty around us, we should look at the sky and see the beauty of the blue sky, of the stars, of the sun, of the moon. We can generously offer the beauty of the sky, of the stars…
[As told by Cledi]
A few years ago, I had a beautiful and unique opportunity to reside at Khadro Ling. During this short time living with Rinpoche’s large family, my story was drawn with many brush strokes, but there was only one artist’s hand. I was asked to work in the shop, with management, answering phones at night and in a project of children’s books with Mônica. This last activity became my passion and it was while I was doing it that my story with Rinpoche began a path where the humor and severity of a great master mixed together.
Once, as we often did, Mônica and I were in the living room attached to Khadro’s room (where she was in retreat), writing the story of a toad and his friends. We were completely absorbed by the book’s atmosphere and, without realizing it, we had a laughing fit because of the toad.
When I finished that session, I said goodbye to Mônica. As I was leaving, I passed by a room filled with Rinpoche’s students and him
sitting right in the middle, drawing the face of Akshobhya. All of a sudden, I heard Rinpoche yelling at someone. At first, I did not realize that those English words mixed with Tibetan were aimed at my ears, and more deeply, at my heart. But Sultrim whispered in my ear: “Rinpoche is talking to you.” I was completely shocked, I knew I had done something wrong, but I didn’t know what.
Rinpoche went on, loud and clear: “Where do you think you are to be laughing like that? Can’t you see you are disturbing Khadro’s retreat? I don’t want this to be repeated.” I don’t need to mention that I must have purified a whole lot of karma, because I was really ashamed, and all because of the toad in our story. I didn’t know where to run but I wanted to disappear.
Just like any ill-behaved student, incapable of mastering my impulses, my ego made me trip two more times. On both of these occasions, I again wanted to disappear. However, I had to face, twice more also, the powerful noise Rinpoche’s cane made when it hit the wooden floor. You cannot disappear when you face your true master.
On the second time, I was catching up with a friend and laughing aloud when I heard Rinpoche’s cane clinking on the floor. I told my friend, Lili: “I will jump through the window.” Luckily, however, I had nowhere to run. Rinpoche was standing right in front of me, in
the doorway. I bowed very low, so that I could take my eyes away from his gaze. But he, sweetly, with his infectious humor, started to tell a story so funny that the four of us (Rinpoche, Lama Sherab, Lili, and me) started to laugh and couldn’t stop.
Later that same afternoon, I got a gift that I often unwrap in my memory when I miss Rinpoche. The gift, after the great mishap, was when he went to take his afternoon nap. Someone would often sit with Rinpoche while he napped, and since Cinthia couldn’t stay there at that time, Lili kindly offered me that gift. She said: “Marta, go and keep Rinpoche company.” I was so embarrassed, wanting to get away from Rinpoche’s cane, that I said no. I’m glad she insisted.
While I was there, by the side of the bed, I was anxious because I didn’t know whether I was ready or not to attend to his wishes. During his sleep, he moved his round small body, slowly opened his eyes, tried to identify me and, soon enough, scratching his belly, he gave himself to my guard and went back to sleep. Of course, it was he who was taking care of me.
When he woke up, Rinpoche called me to sort with him different kinds of Tibetan tea, which he recognized through smell. And this time I felt so familiar to him, like a daughter playing with her father.
[As told by Marta Maia]
During the construction of Lha Kang, I was working on the terrace of Rinpoche’s old room, where Chris had placed a yellow canvas in order to protect our “workshop” from the rain. It was early winter and it was raining a lot at that time, but when it was time to make the concrete platforms, Rinpoche always did something to make the rain stop. The workers did not understand: “It is raining so hard down in the town, and here it’s a beautiful day!” Yeah…
From up there, I liked to watch the work on the temple and to listen to the sounds coming from the woodshop, from the cement mixers, from the tractors arriving with construction materials. I could also see people going back and forth, there was always someone shouting: “Did you see Chris? Soninha? Dudu?” And Diogo’s small voice, followed by Fernanda’s voice: “My boy, get down from there, how many times has Rinpoche said he does not want kids playing amidst the works? ” Or Irinia arriving with her shopping from town, distributing materials: a saw for Dave, paint for Inês, fabric for Cíntia and invoices for Lili to check!
One day, I thought: “It must be because of this that Rinpoche is the Lord of the Dance. So, so many things happening non-stop and Rinpoche just quietly sitting in the middle of it all, sorting every detail, negotiating budgets, teaching how to paint, drawing, translating, measuring, deciphering dreams, teaching, blowing on a small bird that fell from the nest, taking photos with visitors (once he turned to me and said, full of irony: “I made a samaya of taking 100,000 photos!”), calling Lama Tsering on the phone, receiving writers, preparing
initiations, sewing, reading Mo for a girl who called from Switzerland, taking care of each and every one of us and always asking: “Done, done?”
The day they made the pillars of Lha Kang, in the middle of the evening puja, Rinpoche stopped everything and said: “I forgot something!” Then he called Chris and asked something. Chris shook his head. He called Andréia, she went out and came back with a jar full of purbas. Rinpoche selected a bunch of them, handed them to Chris, and Chris ran to stick the purbas into the pillars. Fortunately, the cement wasn’t dry yet!
Once, Rinpoche and Soninha arrived very late for puja, as they had been to Porto Alegre to buy pieces for the bathroom at the temple. Khadro asked: “So, did you buy everything?” “Yes,” Rinpoche replied. “We had a very good deal.” “And what color are they, Rinpoche?” “Lama color!” he asked, showing his tchuba. Khadro almost fainted! “What? Lama color on the public bathrooms? ” “Yes, I like it.” Khadro was just repeating: “Oh, no, tell me it’s not true…” He looked for a color on his colorful satin jacket, then looked at the lining, which was slightly lighter than his tchuba, and said, triumphantly: “Like this: pink!” I never knew whether he was playing with Khadro or if it was true, but the bathrooms today are white, just as the rules of public hygiene dictate.
On another occasion, we were at the end of the Tara puja, early in the morning, when Rinpoche quickly entered the room and sat on his throne, making signs for us not to get up. Andréia translated: “Rinpoche said
that if you make prostrations, you will be prostrating to a ball of fire, because he is very angry.” And he went on, saying he was up at two o’clock and wasn’t able to fall asleep again because he was so angry. He had learned there was a dispute with the construction workers. I don’t remember his exact words, but he said we were not building any ordinary house, a hotel or a store, but that it was a temple, and you cannot build a temple with only bricks and cement, but with everything we think and feel and express. . . and he went on and on and on. I had never seen Rinpoche so mad! After that, we behaved as actual saints for a couple of weeks.
I was sleeping in the meditation room, where today the dormitory is located. It was a wonderful sensation to be there by myself, with the butter lamps lighting up the statues and then extinguishing themselves, one by one, during the night. Winter was approaching and, often, after the puja, Rinpoche would stay until later, talking to Lama Norbu, Chris, Randy, Dudu, Suzi and everyone who was more closely involved with the temple’s construction. I would like to be able to remember the names of all the people who came from so many corners of the world in order to help with the construction. I was always thinking about writing a journal about that time, but I never had the time. While Rinpoche was still at the temple, I went to the kitchen to have tea with Maurício and people who were hanging out there for this or that reason, modeling a torma, cutting bread for the next day, making a shopping list, drinking mate tea. When someone had a cold, Billy would concoct his magic tea, which would heal anything. One evening, instead of going to his room, Rinpoche went to the kitchen, sat on a stool and said: “I’m here to see why you come here.” “Because it’s warm near the stove and there is tea, Rinpoche! Do you want a cup?” He drank it, stayed for a bit and left.
With Rinpoche, I found out walls are not static things. One day there’s a door here, the next, everything has changed. His room was workshop, office, drawing room; it had a computer, a Xerox machine, hot water to make tea, a phone (the other one was located at the shop) that Drica would be answering all the time. As soon as his new room was ready, with its shiny floors, new rug, everything perfect, I got into the vestibule and there was Rinpoche, with his cleanest clothes, happily working with mud. Soon, Andréa arrived: “Rinpoche, it is time to get down for your teaching.” I asked: “Do I go down too or do I stay here and work?” He gave me some work to do and said: “Stay here. If Khadro comes and tells you to work somewhere else, just answer ‘yes, yes’ – and keep on working!”
One day, I thought: “In a while, everything will be ready and I will sit to meditate in complete silence.” And I started to laugh by myself, as I already knew Rinpoche hasn’t ever even considered stopping building stuff. After Lha Kang was ready, there were the houses for the prayer wheels, the stupas, the statues, the lamp room. . . and we will build so much more, as this is an important part of our Guru Yoga. He even left us some homework to do: to build Padmasambhava’s Palace. In four or five years, he will run up the stairs, eyes shining as a kid who enters a temple for the first time. . . “And it better be well done!”
[As told by Flávia Pellanda]
Some members of the Manaus Sangha and I were in the hotel room where Rinpoche was staying, enjoying the opportunity to ask questions and listen to his teachings.
I remember him sitting on the bed, shirtless and eating tsampa. The simplicity of that vision grabbed my attention, as did the stangeness of it. Our highly venerated master was there, just like an ordinary human being, part of his body exposed and using his hands to mix flour and water with ease.
At that time, my contact with him had been very limited. Even so, I felt bad that I wasn’t comfortable enough to enjoy his presence then. I wish I had been able to discuss more and to listen to him wholeheartedly; however, I was afraid of him.
I remember I asked just one question. Actually, I was looking for advice, as I was no longer satisfied with the relationship I was in and I wanted to end it. However, I was not brave enough to ask whether it would be the best for me or not, as it was so intimate, so I asked a general question. I asked whether we should act in order to change some difficult situation, for instance a woman who has an aggressive husband and is abused, whether she should try to separate from her husband. That was not my situation, but today I see that my question contained the answer I wanted to hear.
Yet Rinpoche’s answer completely surprised to me, and took me a long time to understand. When we truly understand the meaning of impermanence, he said, there is no reason to change. To this day, I haven’t fully understood the deeper meaning of this teaching, though I have ruminated it for a long time.
When Rinpoche passed, it was another unsettling surprise. I could not believe he would simply go without warning us, even though everyone was there with him, hearing P’owa teachings. For a moment, I even felt anger. I felt helpless and abandoned by him. Then I realized what he wanted to teach us: “Everything is impermanent. Everything comes to pass. Don’t expect things to last. Don’t expect that you can control whatever comes to you.”
[As told by Carliza Vettorato Timm]
When I first met Rinpoche, it was an early evening in January 2001, during a Dzogchen retreat. I was not doing the retreat, but I showed up at Khadro Ling with a few friends and someone at the store advised me to go talk to Andréa (today Lama Sherab) in order to get to Rinpoche
At the end of the practice shift, just like Lama Sherab had promised, Rinpoche called us, even before all the practitioners had left the shrine. All those people were just staring at us, and my two friends who were with me didn’t want to talk to him. So I approached him and gave him a gift, a sort of hammock shaped as a chair, which you hang on the ceiling. He opened it and laughed. He looked up at the high ceiling of the shrine and laughed at the idea of hanging a hammock from it. I was so embarrassed I almost collapsed.
The next day, we were still at Khadro Ling and, all of a sudden, someone said Rinpoche was in his car, waiting to leave. Many people came to the car to say goodbye. I went along and, when I got close, I asked him for a blessing. He put his hand on my head and he spent a little while praying. To this day, I don’t know how to describe what I felt at that moment.
In 2002, Rinpoche came to Fortaleza and it was a “trip” to be driving him around, with him trying to read many signs in Portuguese, asking what each one of them meant. At his first public talk, there were almost three hundred attendees in a hotel, most of them sitting on the floor. After, during his teachings, he gave a Medicine Buddha empowerment and explained how diseases derived from the poisons of the mind.
The joy and pleasure he displayed towards places and people were amazing. When he participated in a local radio show, he was laughing the whole time. Everything was so fast: his visit to the children’s cancer hospital, the blessings he sent to everything and everyone… My devotion only grows and grows with each passing day, as each one of these memories strengthen my connection with him, with Khadro, with Lama Sherab; in short, with the Lamas’ activities.
[As told by Patrícia]
