Chogyam Trungpa Rimpoche

For several minutes, I stood gazing at those living pink roses growing in the snow. My feet were slowly freezing to the ground beneath them, yet I was able only to stare in disbelief at those impossible roses. Suddenly I felt, rather than saw, a presence next to me. Even though he was dressed in long pants and a thick woolen jacket, I somehow knew that he was a Tibetan Monk.

For a few moments, this monk watched the roses with me, then enquired, telepathically,
"Would you like to come inside where it is warmer?"
"Yes" I nodded gratefully, still only half-believing that either he - or those impossible roses - were real.

I was, slowly but surely, slipping into a different reality.

JOHNSTON HOUSE
We entered the house through a side door and the monk escorted me to a large, bright room beyond which lay a verandah that overlooked that magical garden. In the centre of the room was a large, highly polished, wooden table which I knew, beyond doubt, had been a gift from a student.

How had I known such a fact when nobody had mentioned it. Nobody had spoken verbally to me yet. Though it should have been confusing, the room, the monk, even the garden had felt somehow familiar to me. Stated more accurately, it felt familiar to a part of myself that had been sleeping for a long, long time and was now ready to be awakened.

To steady my mind, I scanned the room. A mis-matched array of old chairs were placed against the walls beyond this central table, and along another wall stood a tall bookcase containing some ancient Tibetan books. Trungpa bid me browse through the literature while I warmed up and then abruptly left the room to let the kitchen staff know that there would be one more guest for the evening meal that day.

SANSKRIT
While he was gone, I spied a large dusty book, beautifully bound in intricately tooled leather. It reminded me of an old and venerated family bible, in which you'd expect to see listed generations of births, deaths and marriages.

I took the heavy book to the table and opened it carefully. Each half of the book must have measured 4-5" thick, when open. I remained standing so as to see the text more clearly, and was poring over its contents, nodding and murmuring to myself at different passages when Trungpa returned. Noting my concentration, he smiled and commented - out loud in perfect English:

"How is it that you read Sanskrit?"

My face must have been a picture of pure astonishment at being asked such an outrageous question.

Of course I didn't read Sanskrit! I had grown up in England and I could only read English. Why had he asked me such an odd question when this book was written entirely in English! But though I thought these words, I said nothing audible.

Instead my eyes searched his, seeking a logical explanation for his peculiar question. But Trungpa only smiled and then calmly looked down at the book that still lay on the table and my gaze followed his.

I was so totally dumbfounded, I did a double take!
The book had indeed, been written entirely in Sanskrit.
And everything that I'd just read was completely unintelligible to me, now that my conscious mind was in control. Yet, mere moments earlier, I had been studying it, understanding it and even agreeing with the content of passages I had read.

Yup, I had indeed slipped into a completely different reality.

HOW HAD THAT HAPPENED, HOW WAS IT POSSIBLE?

Trungpa chuckled and excused himself from the room once more, leaving me alone trying to understand what had just happened. My entire encounter with that Sanskrit text had seemed so familiar and yet...how could I possibly have read and understood it?

But then, how HAD those roses flourished in the cold and snows of late November?

At the sound of soft footsteps I looked up to see a girl, close to my own age, walking towards me. She was dressed like a hippie, in a floor length flower-printed skirt, thick socks and a simple thin cotton blouse underneath a home-knitted woolen shawl. She wore a necklace of small wooden beads, somewhat obscured by two gleaming curtains of straight blonde hair.

"Do come and join us for supper" she said, cheerfully as she led me towards the interior dining room.

VEGETARIAN SUPPER
About 20 people had already gathered around the windowless dining room in a disorderly queue that edged slowly towards the kitchen. Each person returned to the dining room with their bowl of nourishing broth and a hunk of unleavened bread, squeezing together at the long refectory table and waiting till all had assembled.

A monk in Tibetan robes intoned a prayer then nodded imperceptibility and everyone began eating their food in almost total silence. The soup was thick and hearty, filled with vegetables that looked fresh and tasted delicious. Warm flat bread complimented it perfectly. Given my own experience with their live roses, I wasn't unduly surprised that this monastery also managed to grow fresh vegetables in the dead of winter!

After supper, I was alarmed to discover that the sun had already set and the temperature outside was plummeting. The girl who had guided me to supper suggested I phone my boyfriend and tell him I'd be staying the night at the monastery. But we had no phone in our little cottage. I'd have to return home or he'd be worried all night about me.

Within minutes of hearing that I was planning to walk some 5or 6 miles into the darkness, someone kindly offered to drive me back home. And along the way, my driver, Daniel, helpfully answered my many questions about the people I had met that day, beginning with Trungpa. And what a fascinating tale he told.

VIDYADHARA CHOGYAM TRUNGPA RINPOCHE
Trungpa was a Buddhist meditation master, scholar, teacher, poet, artist, and a Trungpa tülku or living Buddha who had founded Samye Ling Monastery. He was also the very same telepathic monk that I'd met by the roses in the garden.

Trungpa and a few fellow monks had escaped Tibet with their lives, their writings and little else, following the Chinese invasion of 1959. From 1959-1963, by appointment of His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, Chögyam Trungpa served as the spiritual advisor for the Young Lamas Home School in Dalhousie, India. He was then awarded a Spaulding Scholarship to study comparative religion, philosophy and fine arts at Oxford University.

During this time, he also studied Japanese flower arranging and received an instructors degree from the Sogetsu school. On completing his studies, Trungpa tried, unsuccessfully, to establish Tibetan Buddhist monastery, in England until 1967, when he crossed the border into Scotland and there founded Samye Ling.  And the rest, as they say, is history!

FLOWER POWER ERA
A brilliant spiritual teacher, Trungpa was also a colourful and outrageous character who easily attracted students during the 'flower-power' era of the late sixties and early seventies with whom he freely indulged in 'free love', alcohol and drugs.

I happened to be visiting Samye Ling a short time later when word came that Trungpa (then 30 years old) had run away with a 16-year old girl, whom he later married. Shocked followers had, at first, tried to understand and then to explain or even excuse the behaviour of their guru. Trungpa's actions sorely tested the belief systems of many of these early Buddhists. Some became disillusioned and returned to mainstream life. Others developed compassion and steadfastly refused to appear, or be, judgemental.

Through grappling with the simple yet shocking social choices that Trungpa had recently made, each of us was being introduced to an important soul lesson. 

I understood that making value judgements about another was both futile and foolish.  We all make mistakes and we all seek forgiveness.  Trungpa used his own life to show us that examining our mistakes helps us to know and accept our frailties and - by extension - the frailties of others.  

The noble art of acceptance was Trungpa's gift to us.

Despite maintaining an outwardly open-minded stance, I had inwardly harboured serious concerns and questions about Trungpa's choices. His actions certainly hadn't fitted my concept of 'holiness' as it had been taught in my Catholic convent school. But then, I'd long wondered if my school-teachers themselves understood holiness! And all at once I realized that being free of judgement was going to be no easy task for me.

Ah but NOBODY is perfect! How then could our imperfect minds comprehend the logic of an eastern demi-god? Intentionally or not, our conclusions would become warped by our own expectations. Perhaps Trungpa's purpose had been to open up precisely this kind of inner dialogue in order to support the young of that time in thinking for themselves? Who was to say? I had met him only briefly, in that magical garden of roses, yet that encounter had changed my life forever.

Communing telepathically with this monk had felt so natural and familiar to me. It was as if I had knocked on the door of my soul's previously hidden memories, and he had opened it. Here was a friend from past times, whom I had known then, as a brother. That I had arrived in his garden in this life, able to read and understand that Sanskrit tome, was my Spirit's gift to him.

There is a saying "by their deeds, ye shall know them", which works to humble me when I am in danger of judging anyone who crosses my path. Certainly Trungpa's deeds, in India, England and Scotland, outweighed any of his apparent flaws or transgressions. 

Chögyam Trungpa's impressive achievements are those of a highly spiritual man who became a major figure in the dissemination of Tibetan Buddhism to the West, and who founded Vajradhatu and Naropa University and established the Shambhala Training method in the United States. His always controversial career is characterized as "crazy wisdom" by his Western followers. 

He passed from this life at the age of 47 of alcohol-related liver failure. 
He had used up his body.  He no longer needed it.

NASA PENSIONERS

The majority of the Trungpa's followers at Samye Ling were young professional men and women who had worked for the North American Space Agency that made it possible for Neil Armstrong to walk on the moon during the summer of 1969. To safeguard their specialized knowledge, NASA retired these young employees - most under 35 years of age - on full pension for the duration of their lives.

Banned from ever again working in the field of rocket science, yet finding their pensions inadequate to sustain their high quality of life in the USA, these bright minds sought unique solutions. Many of them volunteered their  minds and bodies overseas, in Africa and Asia.  Some travelled through Europe and from there overland to India, seeking enlightenment. But a significant number of them moved to Scotland, where land was cheap and, during the late sixties, immigrants were welcomed.

Perhaps initially drawn by the newly created Samye Ling Monastery, these highly intelligent professionals discovered studied Buddhism and helped to set up and maintain a spiritual community  in and around the monastery.

Some Americans purchased large tracts of land, hiring avant-guard architects to create bold new abodes for them. Others sensitively renovated existing heritage buildings and home-schooled their children in the wilderness. Still others became artists and artisans who formed the hub of the ever-growing Spiritual Community.

Too soon, the van reached my home where I related the above account of my day to my somewhat bemused boyfriend

SECTION 2 Chapter 4 Thanksgiving in Scotland other-worldly escapades in Eskdalemuir 
[with the exception of Johnston House, Samye Ling Monastery and Chogyam Trungpa Rimpoche, the names of individuals and dwellings in this section, have been changed to preserve the anonymity of their owners]