Wulstan Fletcher and Helena Blankleder, in the introduction to their translation of The Nectar of Manjushri's Speech, provide a brief biography of Patrul Rinpoche, explaining how he popularized Śāntideva's Bodhicaryāvatāra, a text that was his constant companion.
Although the explanation lineage of the Bodhicharyavatara reaching back to Ngok Loden Sherab and beyond was never severed in Tibet, by the nineteenth century, the knowledge and study of Shantideva's text had almost fallen into abeyance, being confined to the scholarly environment of a small number of monastic colleges. It seems that even copies of the text had become a rare commodity.[1] This was a situation that Patrul Rinpoche was to change almost single-handedly. He devoted his life to the practice and propagation of the Bodhicharyavatara. Traveling all over the east of Tibet, he is said to have expounded it more than one hundred times, sometimes in detailed courses lasting many months. It was he, more than anyone else, who restored Shantideva's teaching to the important position that it now occupies in the sutra teachings of all schools of Tibetan Buddhism.
The strength of Patrul Rinpoche's influence, and the reverence in which he was held, derived not only from his great erudition and skills as a teacher, but also from the power of his personality and the purity of his own example.[2] Indeed, a profound knowledge of the Bodhicharyavatara and a lifelong dedication to the implementation of its teachings could not fail to produce an unusual personality. He seems in many ways to have been like another great monk and yogi, Shabkar Tsogdruk Rangdrol, an elder contemporary whom he much admired but never met.[3] Like Shabkar, Patrul Rinpoche combined the practice of the Great Perfection[4] with a tireless implementation of the Mahayana teachings on wisdom and compassion so powerfully advocated in Shantideva's verses and the mindtraining instructions of Atisha and the Kadampas. Temperamentally too they were very similar. Untainted by worldly concerns of any kind, they were both free spirits unhindered by religious and social conventions. And both were renowned for their compassion toward human beings and animals alike.
Patrul Rinpoche was recognized at an early age as the third incarnation of a lama named Palge Samten Phuntsok, and his youth was spent at Palge Monastery (whence his name: Palge Trulku, or Patrul for short). In the Tibet of his day, monasteries were often large and wealthy establishments and the labrang, or residences of their abbots and lamas, were appropriately spacious and well-appointed-the perfect setting, one might imagine, for a relatively comfortable life of scholarship and contemplation. Such a prospect was of no interest to Patrul Rinpoche, and at the youthful age of twenty, he took advantage of the fortuitous circumstances occasioned by the death of the monastic administrator: He closed down the labrang and left. And for the next fifty years or so, he lived the life of a wandering hermit and yogi of no fixed abode, his belongings consisting of little more than the clothes he was wearing and a few books. He had no home, no property, no worldly responsibilities. It is said that whenever he wished to set off on a journey, all he needed to do was to stand up and he was ready to go.
He sought teachings at the feet of many masters and became a scholar of profound learning. A word-perfect knowledge of many texts, stored in his exceptionally powerful memory, allowed him to give lengthy and detailed teachings at any time and place as need arose. He traveled alone and without retinue. His appearance was unkempt and people often mistook him for a beggar and treated him accordingly. Many amusing stories were remembered about him, passed down lovingly by his disciples and their disciples to the present day. Often he would disappear for long periods, practicing in solitude, in caves or under rocky overhangs, or just at the foot of a tree.[5] His commitment to the path of renunciation, compassion, and bodhichitta were legendary-so much so that many people came to regard him as the incarnation of Shantideva himself. For it was difficult to imagine a more perfect embodiment of the teachings of the Bodhicharyavatara.
The reports that have come down to us of Patrul Rinpoche's life are largely anecdotal. They reflect the experience of those who knew him and describe the sides of his character that impressed them most. The degree to which these subjective accounts succeed in defining Patrul Rinpoche as he really was is difficult to assess, but the picture they convey is of a person who had completely abandoned the "eight worldly concerns." According to Buddhist teaching, these eight preoccupations or urges are the ways in which ego-clinging manifests in daily life. They consist of the desire for happiness, success, importance and good reputation, and the wish to avoid their opposites: discomfort, defeat, obscurity and disgrace. The fact that Patrul Rinpoche had abandoned or "leveled" these tendencies meant that whatever happened to him in the way of pleasure or pain, praise or blame, gain or loss, fame or neglect, was of equal consequence. He simply didn't care. He was without hope or fear-in life generally and especially in his relations with people. He never manipulated others to his own advantage and he was never afraid of telling them the truth. He had not the slightest use for recognition and reputation and was always direct and sincere, unmoved by considerations of spiritual or social rank. Behind the mask of famous lama, noble man, distinguished scholar, beggar, or brigand he saw only the living being, caught in the sufferings and delusions of samsara. He had an unnerving ability to see into the most secret recesses of those whom he encountered and he treated everyone according to their need with an equal frankness and familiarity. To those in difficulty, he was kindness and gentleness personified but with those who had the ability to profit from his guidance on the path, he was a formidable teacher, ferociously tearing away the facades and pretences by which the ego defends and promotes itself. He had a reputation for being extremely fierce and it must have been devastating to be on the receiving end of one of his admonitions. Yet, as his disciples reported, his purposes were unfailingly compassionate and sincere; and for those who sought his guidance with a commensurate sincerity, he evoked a response of intense and lasting devotion. The reminiscences of Tenpa'i Nyima, the Third Dodrupchen Rinpoche, provide us with a fascinating vignette of what relations with Patrul Rinpoche were like.[6]
"Patrul," he writes, "uses fearful and overwhelmingly tough words, but there is no trace of hatred or attachment in them. If you know how to listen to them, they are, directly or indirectly, only teachings. Whatever he says is solid like gold-it is true ... Whoever is involved in unvirtuous activities, unless the person is unchangeable, he digs out that persons' faults at once and exposes them."
No amount of familiarity with the master, Dodrupchen Rinpoche continues, could ever reveal the slightest inconsistency in his behavior. There was no guile, no deceit. What you saw was the man himself. "He seems hard to serve, yet however close you are to him, it is impossible to find a single instance of dishonesty ... he never deviates from the Bodhisattva activities." And then the telling remark: "It is hard to separate from him."
The Bodhicharyavatara was Patrul Rinpoche's constant companion. He taught it incessantly. Wandering all over Tibet, he expounded it in many monasteries of all traditions, following the Rime practice of teaching according to the tradition to which the monastery belonged. When teaching Sakyapas, he would use the commentary of Sonam Tsemo; in Gelugpa monasteries, he would expound Gyaltsap's Dartik; and he would teach Kagyupas according to the commentary of Pawo Tsuglag Trengwa. His attentions, moreover, were not confined to monastic audiences. On many occasions he taught the Bodhicharyavatara to large gatherings of lay people, thereby providing a detailed explanation of the Mahayana path to the public at large, always emphasizing the importance of practice over mere learning.
Minyak Kunzang Sonam records in his biography of Patrul Rinpoche:
Thanks to the kindness of Patrul Rinpoche, the entire region became filled with the explanation and study [of the great texts] and very many people, down to ten-year-old monks, were able to adorn their mouths with the recitation of the Bodhicharyavatara ... As a result, the whole land was gloriously transfigured through the enormous numbers of people who, from being complete beginners, aspired and turned their minds to the systematic implementation of the practice of the complete Mahayana path ... And the members of the black-clothed laity, both men and women, by attending for just a few moments the explanation of the Bodhicharyavatara, came to understand that the good heart and bodhichitta are the living roots of the Mahayana teachings.[7]
Anecdotes of Patrul Rinpoche's life are plentiful as well as delightful. They reflect a person who had completely abandoned ego-clinging and the eight worldly concerns. Matthieu Ricard shares these stories in his book Enlightened Vagabond.
The Great Master Patrul
Photo by Matthieu Ricard, 2016
Patrul Rinpoche was heading for Shri Singha[8] Philosophical College to teach Shantideva's Way of the Bodhisattva, and at the same time, a group of monks were on their way to Dzogchen Monastery to attend these teachings.
The party of monks came upon a lama in a meadow not far from the college.
Dressed in nomad style in an old sheepskin chuba, he was sitting on the ground by a little bonfire, making himself some tea.
The monks asked him, "Do you know if Patrul Rinpoche has arrived yet?"
"Yes, he's already here! He'll be teaching at Shri Singha!" the lama answered. "But, really, what's the point of going to hear him? That Patrul's nothing but a loudmouth! Honestly, he's a charlatan!"
Seemingly inspired, the shabby nomad lama continued bad-mouthing the great master Patrul Rinpoche at considerable length and with tremendous creativity and vigor.
Hearing these insults, the monks became furious.
"Shut your trap, samaya-breaker!" they screamed, "or we'll beat you to a pulp!"
The shabby nomad lama ceased his invective and resumed making tea.
The group of monks left and camped nearby for the night. In the morning, they headed for the college and came across the shabby lama once again.
He hailed them cordially, saying, "All right, let's all go together to Shri Singha! I hear that at least the tea they serve there is first class!"
The monks, still outraged, refused to talk to him. They went on to the college without him and found themselves seats in the assembly.
Soon there was an announcement that the great teacher Patrul Rinpoche
was just about to enter. The whole audience rose to show respect, and in solemn, melodious voices, everyone sang verses in praise of Shantideva's Way of the Bodhisattva.
When the distinguished master took his seat on the teaching throne to begin the teachings, the monks realized with horror that the great master Patrul Rinpoche was none other than the shabby lama in sheepskin they had met earlier and threatened with bodily harm!
Patrul began his teachings by saying, "Last night, I met a bunch of furious monks. Where are they? I'd like them to come up here and sit in the very front row!"
Which, with chagrin, they did.
A Monk Makes a Full Confession
Photo by Khenpo Dönnyi, ca. 1997
Once, at Shri Singha Philosophical College, it was the day for doing sojong, the confession ritual that monks are required to perform twice a month. The gong rang summoning people to the temple. Everyone began hurrying so as not to be late. Walking stick in hand, Patrul was heading toward the temple, too, dressed in a patched felt chuba, which he would wear in the summer.
A crowd was rushing in and climbing up the steps, shabby Patrul among them. Suddenly, one monk gave Patrul such a shove that he lost his balance and tumbled down the staircase. The monk who had rudely shoved aside Patrul had mistaken him for a thieving beggar trying to sneak into a ceremony meant for members of the sangha only.
Eventually, everyone entered the temple and found a seat. The monk, too, sat down. Then he looked up.
There was a throne on which was seated the person in charge of leading the sojong ceremony. Sitting upon the throne was Patrul, the shabby man the monk had very roughly shoved aside.
Trying to make the best of a bad situation, the horrified monk stood up at once, declaring, "Not only do I have an offense to confess, but I can confess it before the very person I offended!"
Patrul Waits in Line to Receive a Blessing
Source: Himalayan Art Resources
At a time when Patrul was traveling alone, on foot, he came upon the tent encampment of a group of lamas who were on their way to a large dharma assembly. He approached them to beg alms and asked if he might travel with their group. They agreed to let him join their party.
Looking like an ordinary wandering practitioner, he was treated as one. They gave the shabby nomad lama lots of menial chores to do: making tea, gathering firewood, serving tea to the other monks. With Patrul working hard as their humble servant, the group traveled through remote regions over several weeks until at last they reached their destination.
A prominent lama was to give an important Vajrayana transmission, and in keeping with the importance of the spiritual occasion, the gathering was very grand. In all aspects, it was a magnificent spectacle: a huge crowd made up of ordinary people dressed in their best clothes, high officials and their families, and handsome aristocrats in silken garments riding horses with polished silver-alloy bridles, elaborate saddles, ornate stirrups, and brightly colored saddle pads.
There were many high lamas and many very important monks, wearing tall ceremonial hats, brocades, and other monastic regalia.
The long ritual horns and conch-shell trumpets sounded like a celestial symphony. Each important lama was seated on a special throne whose exact height was precisely set according to rank and precedence.
The religious rituals began, and continued for several days. Once the assembly was over, all the monks, wealthy patrons, and laymen and laywomen got into line, waiting to make individual offerings to the presiding master and receive his blessings.
Patrul had been sitting at the back of the crowd the whole time, so he wound up at the end of the very long line, standing and waiting patiently for his turn to receive a personal blessing. (Patrul himself always declined to give such hand-blessings.) As the queue slowly advanced, people made prostrations, one by one, before the great master's throne. They each offered the lama a white silk scarf and then received his blessing.
At first, the great lama touched each person on the head, using his two hands to give his blessing. After some time, since there were so many people
in line, the presiding lama stopped using his hands and began brushing each person's head with a long peacock feather.
Finally, it was Patrul's turn. He came forward to receive the great lama's blessing. Before touching the devotee's head with the peacock feather, the master peered down from his lofty throne at the bedraggled figure below him. His eyes widened with astonishment as he recognized the vagabond.
It was the great Patrul Rinpoche—who was, in fact, the great lama's own
master.
The high lama somehow managed to clamber down from his extremely high throne. He stood before Patrul, raised his folded hands to his forehead, and began to prostrate to him.
As everyone present, including his former traveling companions, looked on and gasped in amazement, Patrul merely smiled.
Notes
- ↑ See Kretschmar, chap. 1, p. 37.
- ↑ Many of the details of this biographical note derive from the account of Patrul Rinpoche's life given in Tulku Thondup's Masters of Meditation and Miracles (hereafter Masters), pp. 201-10.
- ↑ See Ricard, Life of Shabkar, p. xv.
- ↑ Patrul Rinpoche was a disciple of Jigme Gyalwa'i Nyugu, himself a direct disciple of Jigme Lingpa, the revealer of the famous cycle of meditative and yogic practices known as the Longchen Nyingtik. Patrul Rinpoche composed a famous commentary on the preliminary practices to this cycle, a text entitled Kun bzang bla ma'i zhal lung and translated into English as The Words of My Perfect Teacher, in which he set down the oral instructions received from Jigme Gyalwa'i Nyugu.
- ↑ See Masters, p. 203.
- ↑ See Masters, p. 208.
- ↑ See "Orgyan 'jigs med chos kyi dbang po'i rnam thar:' in Complete Works of Patrul Rinpoche, vol. 8, pp. 221-222.
- ↑ Shri Singha was the chief disciple and successor of Manjushrimitra in the lineage of the Dzogchen teachings, and a master to Guru Padmasambhava.
