My Spiritual Journey Read online

  No, I cannot become a retiree (laughs). Unless a majority no longer regards me as the Dalai Lama—then I’ll be able to go into retirement! (laughs). I’m joking!

  Since 2001, we have had a leader of the executive branch elected by vote every five years. That is how I could go into semi-retirement in politics. In Tibet, in 1952, I initiated changes that were the preliminaries for democratization. But we weren’t able to set in motion our modernization program, since so many upheavals happened.

  Then, when we arrived in India as refugees, we were all favorable to democracy. Since 2001, the main decisions have been made by people who were elected, and not by me. In fact, I act as an experienced adviser. In 2006, Samdhong Rinpoche was reelected, and the rule is that one can only serve for two terms.11 So in four years a new person will be chosen by election.

  I don’t think it is important to preserve the institution of the Dalai Lama. We should make a clear distinction between safeguarding Tibetan culture and Tibetan Buddhism, on the one hand, and preserving the office of the Dalai Lama, on the other. This institution, like others, appears at a given moment in time and then disappears; Tibetan Buddhism and its cultural heritage, however, will remain as long as the Tibetan people.

  That is why in 1992 I declared that, when the time has come for us to go back to our homeland, to Tibet—that is, when we have won a real autonomy—then I will hand over all my legitimate authority as Dalai Lama to the Tibetan government.12

  Why shouldn’t a very beautiful woman be my next incarnation?

  IN THE PAST, certain reincarnations were recognized before the death of their predecessors, who chose qualified successors. In my generation, this sort of occurrence may come about, depending on the particular circumstances at a given time.

  Westerners are fascinated by the idea that the next incarnation of the Dalai Lama could be a woman. Theoretically, yes, that is possible. The profound reason for reincarnation is to carry out the task that wasn’t completed in the previous life. Logically, if my death occurs during exile, my reincarnation will come from abroad in order to finish what I began.

  The very goal of reincarnation is to serve the Buddha Dharma. In Buddhist teaching, men and women have the same basic rights. But in reality, two thousand five hundred years ago Indian tradition posited the preeminence of monks. Although higher ordinations are theoretically accessible to nuns in the Buddhist community, in Tibet, Sri Lanka, and Thailand nuns were prevented from receiving the highest ordinations. In Tibet this type of ordination was conferred on monks by Shantarakshita, while nuns were excluded.13 Fortunately, in China the tradition of higher ordination for nuns was maintained to this day. There are discussions today about reintroducing higher ordination for women.

  Even so, in Tibetan tradition there are lineages of female high reincarnations, like Dorje Phagmo, a lineage that is over six hundred years old. I don’t know if these reincarnate women are all nuns or not, but in most cases I think they have taken vows. Consequently, according to circumstances, if a Dalai Lama in a female form can help beings better serve the Buddha Dharma, why deprive ourselves of that?

  Beauty is one of the eight qualities of a precious human body on the physical level. It is obvious that if a female Dalai Lama is ugly to look at, she will attract fewer people. The aim of a female reincarnation is to transmit the Buddhist teachings to the public in a convincing way. That would not be to spend twenty-four hours a day meditating and chanting prayers. From this point of view, the question of appearance has its importance. Consequently, I sometimes tell people, half-joking, that if I reincarnate as a woman, naturally I will be a very beautiful woman physically.

  I don’t know if I will appoint the next Dalai Lama during my lifetime. It is a possibility I am contemplating. Let’s have people give their advice, then we’ll see. In the past, about a decade ago, this point was debated among the main Tibetan lineage holders. In the months to come, we will probably have a meeting on this subject, as well as on the ordination of women.

  The Tibetan clergy includes a majority of male lamas, and rebirth as a male is traditionally considered better, even though Tibetan Buddhists glorify the feminine as a symbol of wisdom and venerate Tara the Liberator, whose vow to attain Enlightenment as a woman was fulfilled.

  There are lineages of female lamas, but it is rare for reincarnate lamas not to be the same sex as their previous incarnations. So the Dalai Lama’s declarations about his successor are unusual. It is true that His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama has continually surprised people with his bold reforms; in adapting the age-old customs of Tibet to the modern world, he has been concerned with preserving the spirit of those customs rather than their outer form. It would seem that he is preparing to break new ground on the sensitive point of his succession, which calls into question the tulku system,14 cornerstone of Tibetan Buddhism.

  We are without beginning or end

  THE CONCEPT of a line of incarnation for the Dalai Lamas presumes the continuity between two living beings: the predecessor and his reincarnation.

  Buddhism accepts the existence of the continuity of a being. The Buddhist theory of “selflessness” means that there is no independent self apart from the body, because “self” or the person is designated by the combination of body and mind. There is a self, but there is no independent absolute self. With respect to continuation, not only does Buddhism accept the continuity of the being, but it also upholds the notion of a “beginningless” self, that is, a self with no beginning and no end until Buddhahood is achieved.

  There are different kinds of reincarnations. An eminent Buddha, or bodhisattva, can manifest several times simultaneously; lower bodhisattvas reincarnate only in one person—that is, once at a time. But anyone, irrespective of whether they are a bodhisattva or an ordinary person, is reborn from “beginninglessness” and will be born endlessly. Continuity is always there and will always be there, owing to karma. Now, at one stage, if you develop a certain spiritual realization, then the birth through karma will cease. Then, with will power, you can choose your rebirth. This type of rebirth we call reincarnation.15

  I could reincarnate in the form of an insect

  RECOGNITION OF REINCARNATE LAMAS, or tulkus, is more logical than it might seem at first. Given the Buddhist belief that the principle of reincarnation is an established fact and that the only point of a reincarnation is to allow someone to continue his efforts to liberate all sentient beings from suffering, we can acknowledge that it is possible to identify children who are the rebirths of certain people. That allows us to train them and establish them in the world so that they can continue their task as soon as possible. Of course mistakes can happen in the process of recognition, but the effectiveness of the system is attested by the lives of a great majority of tulkus. (Several hundred have been recognized today, whereas in Tibet, before the Chinese invasion, there were probably thousands.)

  The process of identification is less mysterious than you might think. First of all, one proceeds by elimination. Let’s take the example of a search for a certain monk. First you have to establish the time and place of his death. If you think, according to your experience, that the new incarnation will in principle be conceived in the next year, you set up a calendar. So if Lama X died in Year Y, his next incarnation will probably be born eighteen months to two years later. In Year Y plus five, the child will probably be around three or four years old. So already you have narrowed the field of investigation down.

  Then you define the most probable place of birth. Usually that’s quite easy. First you ask yourself if it will be in Tibet or elsewhere. If it is abroad, there are a limited number of places—in Tibetan communities in India, Nepal, or Switzerland, for instance. Then you decide in what city you are most likely to find the child. This probability is deduced with reference to the life of the previous incarnation.

  The next step is to gather together a search party. This does not necessarily mean that a group of people will be dispatched, as if for a treasure
hunt. Generally, it is enough to investigate among a community to find out if a three- or four-year-old child is a likely candidate. Often you have useful clues, like unusual phenomena that occurred at birth. Or else a child might demonstrate unusual qualities.

  Sometimes two or three possibilities—or more—present themselves at this stage. Or a search party might prove to be unnecessary, since the previous incarnation left detailed information about the name of his successor and the names of his parents. But that is rather rare. In other cases, disciples of the monk can have lucid dreams or visions indicating where the reincarnation can be found. The rules are not rigid or fixed.

  The purpose of a reincarnation is to facilitate the continuation of a being’s work, which can have important consequences, depending on the person who is being sought. For example, in my case, even if my efforts in general are devoted to the service of all beings, I direct them more particularly to my Tibetan compatriots. So if I die before Tibet has found its freedom again, logically I will be reborn outside of Tibet. If at that moment my people no longer need a Dalai Lama, then it will not be necessary to search for me. So I could be reborn as an insect, or an animal, or some other form of existence that is useful to the greatest number of sentient beings.

  To ensure its control over Tibetan society, the Chinese Communist Party assumed the right to control reincarnation lineages. So that they are not sequestered by Beijing authorities, child lamas are placed under careful protection by their families. In the greatest secrecy, smugglers take them to Nepal or India. There they join monasteries that provide a religious education suitable for their future responsibilities.

  In May 1995, the Dalai Lama confirmed Gendhun Chökyi Nyima, a six-year-old boy, as the reincarnation of the Tenth Panchen Lama, the second-highest dignitary in Tibetan Buddhism. Two days later the Chinese Council of Religious Affairs declared this choice “illegal and invalid.” The same day the religious dignitary in charge of the search for the child lama, Chadral Rinpoche, was arrested and imprisoned for collusion with “the Dalai Lama clique.” A few weeks later the Eleventh Panchen Lama and his parents disappeared. Ever since July 1995, he has been kept in a supervised residence in a place held secret, thus becoming the youngest political prisoner in the world. Legislating like King Ubu in religious affairs, the Chinese Communist Party chose another child and enthroned him in a puppet ceremony. Despite the repeated protests of the international community, we are still without news of Gendhun Chökyi Nyima, the recognized Eleventh Panchen Lama according to authentic ritual.

  Recently, the Chinese authorities made known their desire to exercise increased control over lineages. Thus, in August 2007 the official Chinese news agency announced a new rule about the recognition of “living buddhas,” an expression the Chinese use to designate reincarnate masters. Henceforth, “all requests for recognition of a reincarnation of a ‘living buddha’ must be approved by the Bureau of Religious Affairs,” under penalty of law.

  The Dalai Lama has commented on these measures with humor: “This bizarre decision proves that its authors, who somehow pride themselves in delivering ‘reincarnation permits,’ understand nothing about either reincarnation or Buddhism. They think all that’s necessary is a decree or a rule to extend their control over people’s minds. It doesn’t work like that. If they were even a tiny bit attentive to the reality that’s all around them, they would realize this.”16

  This regulatory control over lineages occurs in a context where the age of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama inevitably poses the question of his succession. Beijing has decided to regulate succession, scorning the moral and spiritual right of the Tibetans. According to Samdhong Rinpoche, prime minister of the Tibetan government in exile, “It is not the Dalai Lama who took the initiative to talk about his succession, but the People’s Republic of China. The Chinese are very anxious about his reincarnation, which they want to choose themselves. So they hope that the present Fourteenth holder of the title won’t live much longer, and they spread rumors saying the Dalai Lama has terminal cancer, so they can try to guess the nomination of his successor. It is clear that they’re doing everything they can to impose a new Dalai Lama under their control. It is crucial for the Tibetan people to define the designation procedure for the Fifteenth Dalai Lama.

  “His Holiness is the only one, since the First Dalai Lama, to have lived so long, and he has to consider his succession, since his job isn’t over yet. The problem of a regency comes up. It is too complex to wait for a child Dalai Lama to grow up until he’s an adult. His Holiness had to take on his responsibilities when he was very young, and that was difficult. His successor will have to be of an age to take on his functions when the time comes. That is why the Dalai Lama is thinking about appointing a madé tulku during his lifetime, literally a ‘reincarnation before death,’ following a tradition by which the master, before dying, transfers the essence of his spiritual realization to his successor.”

  In the speech he gave when he presented the Nobel Peace Prize to the Dalai Lama, Egil Aarvik observed: “The process of recognizing a reincarnation implies entering what is, for a Westerner, terra incognita, where beliefs, thought and action exist in a dimension of existence of which we are ignorant, or that perhaps we have simply forgotten.”17

  Even if the Dalai Lama readily states that he is “no one special,” his life is not ordinary, in the sense that it does not begin with his birth and will not end with his death. The holder of the lineage of awakened Compassion, he radiates from a universal dimension. How do profound states of awareness contribute to this, revealed by meditation and Buddhist practice? That is what his statements as a monk in the following chapter will reveal. They shed light on the formidable humanity of a human being who “makes us feel good about being human. About being alive at a time when someone like him is around.”18

  PART TWO

  As a Buddhist Monk

  3

  Transforming Oneself

  My Ideal: The Bodhisattva

  My identity as a monk

  I OFTEN INTRODUCE MYSELF AS a simple Buddhist monk because my personality and my identity have been built around my commitment as a monk. Although I sometimes feel a very strong karmic link with the Dalai Lamas who came before me, I consider myself a monk first of all. I am a monk before I am the Dalai Lama!

  This is such a clear certainty, and it’s so deeply rooted in my mind, that I even remember it when I’m dreaming. Even during the worst part of a nightmare, I don’t forget that I am a monk. But I’ve never dreamed I was the Dalai Lama.

  By my lights, these reactions at a level beyond intellectual control prove that at the bottom of my heart there is the indelible imprint of my state as a monk. I feel very intensely the fact that I am a simple Buddhist monk.

  My monk’s vows

  IN TIBETAN MONASTICISM, there are 253 rules for monks and 364 for nuns. By observing them as scrupulously as possible, I free myself from useless distractions and everyday concerns. Some of these rules have a lot to do with etiquette—stipulating, for instance, how far a monk should walk behind the abbot of his monastery. Others have to do with conduct.

  The four root vows correspond to four simple prohibitions: a monk must not kill, steal, or lie about his spiritual realizations, and he must also observe strict chastity. If he breaks one of these four vows, he is no longer a monk.

  I am sometimes asked if it’s really desirable to maintain the vow of chastity and if such a vow can be kept. It should be said that this practice does not amount to suppressing sexual desire. On the contrary, it is necessary to accept fully the existence of such desire and to transcend it through the exercise of reason. When you manage to do this, there results a mastery of the mind that is very beneficial. Sexual desire is blind, and that poses a problem. When you say to yourself, I want to have sex with that person, you are expressing a desire that the intelligence does not direct. On the other hand, when you think, I want to eradicate poverty from the world, that is an intellectually controllable d
esire. What’s more, sexual gratification represents only an ephemeral satisfaction. As the great Indian sage Nagarjuna said: “When you have an itch, you scratch yourself. But not having an itch at all is better than scratching yourself for a long time.”

  The daily meditations of a Buddhist monk

  I SPEND AT LEAST five and a half hours a day praying, meditating, or studying. I also pray during all the idle moments throughout the day, during meals or traveling. As a Buddhist, I don’t see any difference between religious practice and daily life. Religious practice is a 24/7 occupation. There are also prayers prescribed for every activity, from waking up to bathing, eating, and even sleeping. For tantric practitioners, exercises performed during deep sleep and dreaming are some of the most important, since they prepare us for dying.

  My main meditation concerns emptiness and consists in concentrating on interdependence on the subtlest level. Part of this practice involves “deity yoga,” in which I use different mandalas, visualizing myself as a series of deities. (I don’t mean by this beings that exist externally or independently.) As I do this, I focus my mind on a level where it is no longer solicited by the data that sensory awareness transmits. It is not a trance, since I remain fully lucid, but rather an exercise in pure awareness.

  It is hard to realize what I mean by this, as hard as it is for a scientist to explain through words what he means by space-time. Neither language nor everyday experience can translate the experience of pure awareness, mastery of which is acquired over many years.