It will come as no surprise that death and dying have been ubiquitous topics of reflection throughout the history of Tibetan literature. Among the literature preserved at Dunhuang are prayers for the dead, prayers to ward off death, funerary rituals, and cosmologies of the realms to which death may lead. The period between the thirteenth and the sixteenth centuries witnessed the formalization of much theological reflection upon death as a moral, soteriological, and persistent practical problem. This chapter provides a glimpse of this rich tradition by presenting four types of literature in which death is treated: tantric exegesis, prayer, narrative, and practical manuals. The first two works treat the bardo, the intermediate state between death and the next life. Tselé Natsok Rangdröl describes the systematic loss of bodily functions as the “wind,” the energy animating human life, steadily recedes from the vital points in the body at death. Next is Karma Lingpa’s (fourteenth century) Prayer for Protection from Fear in the Bardo. This is one of the key prayers in what is perhaps the most well-known work of Tibetan literature, what has been called in the West the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Karma Lingpa stands at the founding moments of the Book of the Dead literature, a tradition that was to undergo centuries of refinement through both theological speculation and ritual invention among Tibetan religious specialists. It is no accident that Tselé wrote an influential work on the bardo, for he was also a major redactor of the Book of the Dead corpus.
The last two works may be considered technical literature, although they are not true examples of this. However, both deal with the realia of death that the living must confront. One is a late work on the process of embalming. This practice is found in Tibetan history since at least the twelfth century, though its popularization dates from the seventeenth century, when the Paṇchen Lama and the Dalai Lama were both embalmed. The other makes plain that even in the emotionally fraught aftermath of death, commerce and con men carry on. Sakya Paṇḍita warns readers of his famous Analysis of the Three Vows to watch out for relic forgeries and provides some pointers on how to identify fake relics. KRS
Tselé Natsok Rangdröl was a prominent scholar and contemplative of the Nyingma school. Born in 1608 in the Kongpo region of southeastern central Tibet, he spent most of his career in his home region, settling eventually at Tselé monastery, also in Kongpo. Until his death in 1680 he was a prolific writer on the classic Nyingma topics, and he is best remembered for his trilogy of brief works on the Great Seal and Great Perfection contemplative systems and the intermediate state between death and life. The following passage is taken from the latter. Tselé describes the dissolution of the human body at the moment of death, based on notions of physiology drawn from tantric exegesis. Five elements make up the human body, and the process of death is no more and no less that the breakdown of these five. “Wind,” the energy that animates human life, is the key factor, for when the wind ceases its normal flow through the body then the physiological system as a whole begins to shut down. Toward the end of the passage Tselé focuses, as does much of this literature, on the moral affective consequences of the breakdown of the body and the ensuing movement of consciousness to the intermediate state between death and life. Symptoms such as rasping breath, choking, and upturned eyes are only the external manifestation of a larger event in human life: the confrontation with the karmic effects of one’s activities and the fearsome encounter with the Lord of Death for those whose negative actions now bear results. KRS
In general, the body of a being is first formed by means of the five elements. Later, it also subsists by means of them, and finally, it perishes through their dissolution.
At the time that the five elements and the five primary winds have thus dissolved, the five subsidiary winds will also automatically disappear, and through this all the sense-faculties and sense-bases also gradually dissolve. Thus, the abilities of the sense-faculties of the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body degenerate and dissolve. As a result, one will not be able to perceive forms, sounds, odors, tastes, or textures. One will misapprehend them or become unable to distinguish their qualities. After that, while consciousness dissolves in space, the external breathing stops. At this point one’s body color fades and dissipates, and there’s only slight warmth at the heart. In texts such as Liberating from the Dangerous Path of the Bardo, everything up to this point comprises the “general signs of death.” Here at this dividing point, it is said that some people can revive again when the cause is illness or an evil influence.
When the course of my life has come to an end,
Those nearest and dearest to me in this world are of no avail,
So now I wander on my own, alone in the bardo.
May the forces of compassion of the conquering buddhas, peaceful and wrathful, flow forth
And dispel the darkness of my ignorance.
Here and now, wandering alone without my beloved friends,
Apparitions of emptiness come to light, naturally appearing.
May the forces of compassion of the buddhas flow forth,
And may the fear of the dreadful and terrifying bardo not arise.
When the five incandescent lights of pristine wisdom dawn,
May I recognize in them my own nature, fearless and without panic.
When the bodily forms of the peaceful and wrathful deities appear,
May I recognize the bardo, fearless and with assured confidence.
When I experience suffering brought on by negative actions in the past,
May the Great Compassionate One relieve my anguish.
When the natural sounds of reality itself boom like rolling thunder,
May all those sounds transform into a chorus of the six syllables—oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ!
When without a refuge my past actions follow after me,
May my patron deity relieve my anguish.
The moment I am born spontaneously in the bardo of rebirth,
May I not be disoriented by the revelations of demons.
When by impulse I arrive in whatever place comes to mind,
May I not be terrified of straying off course due to negative actions in the past.
When ferocious beasts of prey roar at me,
May the sounds transform into a Dharma chorus of the six syllables—oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ.
When pressed by snow and rain, wind and darkness,
May I obtain the lucid divine sight of pristine wisdom.
May all sentient beings in the bardo, who are in the same position as I,
Be reborn in the higher realms without envy of one another.
When impassioned by afflictive emotions I grow hungry and thirsty,
May I not feel the pangs of severe thirst and hunger, fever and chill.
When I see my future parents in sexual embrace,
May I see them as the Great Compassionate One in union with his divine consort.
With power to obtain whatever rebirth I choose,
For the benefit of others may I acquire a superior body adorned with the marks and signs of a buddha.
Once I am reborn with such a superior form,
May all who see and hear me be swiftly liberated.
May I not be shadowed by every negative action in my past,
But bolstered by all my past merits,
And later may I persevere in increasing these merits.
Wherever I am reborn, here and there,
May I meet the patron deity of all my past lifetimes.
As soon as I am reborn, knowing how to speak and the meaning of what is spoken,
May I recall my past lives and obtain a memory that never fails.
May I come to know all the many virtuous qualities, large, middling, and small,
Just by hearing, thinking, and seeing.
Wherever I am reborn, may that place be auspicious,
And may all sentient beings there be blessed with happiness.
O conquering buddhas, peaceful and wrathful,
May I, and others, become just like you,
In all your forms, your retinues, your life spans, and your pure lands.
This prayer entitled “Bardo Prayer That Protects from Fear” was composed by Padmasambhava, the Lotus-born Master from Orgyen.
May this profound religious teaching not be extinguished until saṃsāra has been emptied.
Sealed, sealed, sealed!
This is a treasure text of the incarnate Karma Lingpa.
[Karma gling pa, Bar do’i smon lam ‘jigs skyob ma, in Bar do thos grol chen mo, ed. Mkhan po Rdo rje (Hong Kong: Zhang kang then mā dpe skrun khang kung zi, 2003), 164–166. Trans. BJC.]
Among the celebrated disciples of the Buddha, the arhat Maudgalyāyana was reputed to have been the foremost in miraculous abilities. Early Indian Buddhist texts relate how he journeyed through the hells, witnessing the sufferings of those who were born there and the karmic causes of these sufferings. With the transmission of Buddhism to China, his legend further developed and the tale of his otherworldly travels became a search for his own departed parents, made poignant by the discovery of his mother among the tormented ghosts, or the denizens of hell. In the Chinese Sūtra of the Yulan Vessel (Yulanpen jing), for the salvation of fallen parents and ancestors, the Buddha teaches Maudgalyāyana a rite of sumptuous offerings to the monastic community at the end of the summer retreat, the offerings being placed in a special vessel or bowl. During the Tang dynasty, this became the basis for an annual Ghost Festival, one of the most popular rites of Chinese Buddhism.
Though the festival never spread to Tibet, the Chinese versions of the story of Maudgaly
āyana did, and they came to influence Tibetan literature broadly. The concluding episode of the Epic of King Gesar, for instance, in which the hero saves his mother from hell, seems surely to have been inspired by the Chinese Buddhist tale. The retelling of Maudgaly
āyana’s otherworldly journey here was composed by the fifteenth-century teacher Nanam Tsünpa and is found in his
Life of the Buddha, one of the finest Tibetan works of this genre. MTK
When, for the sake of his parents, Maudgalyāyana became an arhat by striving in absorption, he went everywhere [to find their rebirths] and met his father, who had become a Brahmā-king. Father and son embraced, and the son asked, “If father is so happy, wherever can mother have gone to?”
“I was never without the sūtras in hand and practiced virtue; hence, I was born here. But, because she sinned, she was born in hell.”
With that, round midnight, Maudgaly
āyana went to the realm of hell for the sake of his mother. On the way, he met up with a rich man named Zhang Shanhua, who had eaten mutton, drunk ale, killed [by hunting] with falcons and dogs, blasphemed the sa
ṅgha, and shouted the command “Kill!” On the fifteenth of the previous month, he had died, but only after Yama’s armies twice attacked. He was surrounded by a thousand Yamas bearing pitchforks,
3 a rope was tied about his waist, and before him there were five hundred fox-headed [demons] howling. Blood oozed from each one of his pores and smoke poured out of his mouth. With blood spurting from his nose like an arrow in flight, he cried as he was being led away.
Continuing his descent, [Maudgalyāyana] encountered Yamas with oxheads and horseheads, but, though he asked them, he could not find his mother. Finally, he met Yamarāja, who sent him to the side of the Lord who Commands the Five Paths, Wudao Jiangjun. He was wearing golden armor, held a sword and roared with his eyes bulging. He was terrifying to behold and, surrounded by a company of five hundred, he killed, beat and hacked to pieces beings of human form. Seeing this, [Maudgalyāyana] asked, “Have you seen my mother Maudgalā?” When [the Commander] passed the inquiry on to his scribe, [the latter responded,] “A certain ‘Maudgalā’ passed this way three human years ago and is now in Avīci.”
Grieving, he proceeded there, but a rākṣasa king blocked the way and said, “The Avīci hell is terrifying! Bottom to top, it’s made of iron and copper all aflame. Hadn’t you better go elsewhere?”
Maudgalyāyana replied, “Who can open its portals?”
He said, “Just three can open it: Yama, Wudao Jiangjun, and the Blessed Lord Śākyamuni!”
Delightedly, Maudgaly
āyana took up in an instant the Blessed Lord’s robes, almsbowl and staff, and before the door of Av
īci he thrice shook the rattle of the staff, whereupon the door spontaneously opened. Shaking it again, the watchtower of the iron fortress, together with the key, fell to the ground. From within the door that had spontaneously opened, oxheaded
rākṣasas with iron pitchforks came out.
“I have come here to find my mother.”
“She’s in Avīci,” they said.
Then, when he passed through that door, some five hundred rākṣasas refused to let him go on. At this, Maudgalyāyana focused his gaze and while saying, “If I make my home here, what power do you have?” he rattled his staff, whereupon their pikes and pitchforks fell from their hands and they were unable to stop him. When he arrived before the gate of the iron fortress and again rattled his staff, the sword and spear grove, the mountain of blades, and the needles and thorns, on which [the damned] were impaled, continually vomiting flames, disappeared by themselves. But then numberless rākṣasas arrived and there was an exchange of questions and answers as before, after which the rākṣasas led Maudgalā out and brought her beside her son. Her head was the size of a mountain and her throat thin as a thread. She was unable to walk and her body was pierced with 360 nails. When he saw her like this, he spoke choked with tears, “My mother! Formerly you were happy, but now you suffer with blood pouring from the seven orifices. Did you get the things I sent from home?”
His mother replied, “My son! Whatever you send, it’s of no use. But if you can, copy the scriptures for my sake. There’s no greater benefit than that.”
The guards shouted, “Lead her here and put a thousand nails into her body!”
When he heard this, Maudgalyāyana beat himself until blood poured from his mouth and eyes, and he said to the guards, “I will take on my mother’s suffering!”
They replied, “How can you change karma?” With that, they led his mother away and Maudgalyāyana fell to the ground.
The Blessed Lord, who was residing in Sakarchen during the summer retreat and was occupied in taming the evil destinies, knew [what had occurred]. He dispatched Ānanda, who traveled to hell in an instant and raised Maudgalyāyana who was on the verge of expiring. When [the latter] came before the Blessed Lord, he said, “I pray that you liberate my mother from the sufferings of hell.”
The Blessed Lord then projected light into the infernal realms. Indra took hold of a parasol and led the way, while Brahmā followed, holding on to [the Buddha’s] golden robes. As soon as they arrived at the gates of hell, the portals all opened by themselves. Iron hammers became jewels, while molten copper cooled and the denizens of hell took rebirth in the heavens. But despite this, Maudgalā alone was not freed from the sufferings of the evil destinies, and instead was reborn as a hungry ghost, pained with great hunger and thirst.
Maudgaly
āyana thereupon took his mother to R
ājag
ṛha, where he begged for alms and gave her whatever he received. She greedily stuffed her mouth with food, but it turned into blazing coals, so that she could not eat it. When Maudgaly
āyana tried to feed her with a golden spoon, fire poured out of her nose and mouth, and she could not eat. Then, [wandering] in all directions, many tens of thousands of
yojana, he led her to a riverbank and bade her drink, while [at the same time] the Blessed Lord projected emanations of some five hundred hungry ghosts, who appeared to be drinking the water of the river. [Seeing them,] Maudgal
ā ran all about, trying to prevent the hungry ghosts from drinking, owing to which the water, too, turned into blazing coal, so that she could not drink. Her son said, “Mother! Why have you prevented the hungry ghosts from drinking the river-water? If, thanks to your desire and greed, you’re still unsatisfied, when will you ever be reborn in the higher abodes?”
At this, she became embarrassed before her son. As soon as pangs of regret arose in her mind, she became able to drink the water. She then died right there, on the bank of the river, and took birth in Rājagṛha as an untamable, black, yellow-eyed bitch. Seeing Maudgalyāyana passing by on his alms round, she licked his robes and shed tears. He said to her, “Mother! What’s the matter with you that, even though you’ve become a dog, you can’t abandon evil conduct?” And he wept as well.
Maudgalyāyana then went before the Blessed Lord: “As my mother has now become a bitch, what can I do so that she will be free?”
[The Blessed Lord] declared: “If you invite the sublime ones (ārya) to recite the scriptures continuously for forty-nine days, she will be liberated.”
He did just this, whereupon she transmigrated and was born as a fine young girl in the worldly realm of Light Rays. When the Blessed Lord traveled to Lomachen, he came to Anavatapta, where Maudgalyāyana saw him and knew that she had been tamed by the Blessed Lord. For this reason, he prayed once again and his request was granted:
“By whose miraculous power may I be confident of success?”
“By my miraculous power!”
This said, Mahā-Maudgalyāyana planted a step on the summit of Mt. Meru and, carried by the miraculous power of the Blessed Lord, he traveled on, arriving in Light Rays in a week. When that fine girl saw Maudgalyāyana from a distance, she exclaimed, “I see my son!” The assembled crowded demanded the proof and Maudgalyāyana affirmed that she had been his mother in a former life. After the Blessed Lord, too, had expounded the doctrine, they saw the truth, expressed their acclaim, and offered alms to the Blessed Lord and Maudgalyāyana, which was accepted. Maudgalyāyana then led his mother to the world of Brahmā, where he entrusted her to his father. Afterwards, the Blessed Lord said, “Was Maudgalyāyana confident of success?”
“The Blessed Lord made the journey!”
“By whose miraculous power?”
“By that of the Blessed Lord!”
“Now, think on the Jetavana!”
“Blessed Lord! Shall we go there?”
“Maudgalyāyana himself has already gone; he may be called the ‘Miracle Quick Wit.’” So saying, he dwelt in Jetavana.
[Sna-nam-btsun-pa Skal-bzang chos-kyi rgya-mtsho, Sangs rgyas bcom ldan ’das kyi rnam par thar pa rmad du byung ba mdzad pa ’khrul pa med par brjod pa bde bar gshegs pa’i spyod pa mchog gi gter (= Sangs rgyas mdzad rnam), Sde-dge xylographic edition (Delhi: Tashi Dorjé, 1973), folios 114b–116b (= plates 228–232). A modern typeset edition is given in Ston pa’i rnam thar chen mo (Xining: Mtsho-sngon mi-rigs dpe-skrun-khang, 1994), 219–223. Trans. MTK in “Mulian in the Land of Snows and King Gesar in Hell,” in Bryan Cuevas and Jacqueline Stone, eds., The Buddhist Dead: Practices, Discourses, Representations (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 364–367.]
In the sixteenth century a distinctive literary genre began to circulate throughout Tibet detailing the harrowing personal experiences of men and women who had died, traveled through hell, and returned to life. In Tibet these people are known as delok (lit., passed away and returned). The delok recount their journeys through the netherworld, where they are terrified by the tortures of heat and cold, by jagged mountains and bleak valleys, and by rivers of blood and fire. They meet and interact with a host of tormented beings who suffer there and relay messages and pleas for families and friends back home. Their stories emphasize the fundamental Buddhist principles of impermanence and worldly suffering, karmic retribution, and the possibility of obtaining a favorable rebirth through virtue and merit.
Toward the end of their travels, the delok invariably arrive in the court of the fearsome Yama Dharmarāja, Lord of the Dead, and see different sorts of people being led to judgment, their punishment determined by the nature of their actions in previous lives. Their sins usually include various types of moral offenses and material crimes, such as robbery, theft of religious items, killing animals, causing others to commit illicit acts, and abusing monks and lamas. Then the delok themselves go to trial and argue their case before the great judge. Yama pronounces his verdict and sends the delok back to the living, exhorting them to mend their ways and commit to a life of religious service for the welfare of all suffering beings.
What is exceptional about such judgment scenes in the delok narratives is the individualization of the trials before Yama, in which crimes and punishments are described in intimately personal rather than collective terms. One exemplary case from the biography of the delok Lingza Chökyi, who lived in the sixteenth century, concerns the interrogation by Yama of a young princess from eastern Tibet who had recently died from an accidental fall and who had previously denied and defamed a revered lama. Lingza Chökyi is witness to the trial. BJC
I saw a well-dressed young girl with a nice complexion, beautiful face, and sweet voice. She was a very ostentatious girl, dressed up in fine turquoise and coral, and she was responding to questions addressed to her by Yama, Lord of the Dead. She pleaded: “Yes, I am the princess of Margung. Today, I left my home to visit my parents’ place. There was a river along the way, and as I was crossing over it, I fell in, died, and arrived here. Then, just like that, my virtues and sins were being calculated in detail and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t recall if before I had accomplished in my life any virtuous religious activities. What I do remember is asking many lamas and teachers whenever they came around for Buddhist teachings and blessings. I wanted to approach them and offer them food, but I didn’t go to them because I worried that people might say I wasn’t acting like a girl of high standing, that I was naïve and stupid. I did listen for a time to the guiding instructions of the Lama Zhönnu Gyeltsen, and afterward he asked me to be his sexual consort in yoga. But, because I held myself in such high esteem, I was offended and thought to myself, “A roving lama such as he said that to me?!” and I left him without obtaining his full instructions. I also had no faith in him. Because I was so young, I didn’t know how to accomplish virtues. Now, I take these turquoise and corals from my body and offer them to you, Yama Dharmar
āja, and ask that you send me back. I intend now to practice religion. If you don’t send me back up to the human world, I will have been a sinner. I beg you, please don’t send me down to that mayhem below.”
Yama examined the mirror of karma and his written records of sins and virtues and said, “O, you say you’re not a sinner, but that isn’t true. At home, during your wedding, twenty-three animals were slaughtered, so you gained a quarter of sin because of that. Also, that Lama Zhönnu Gyeltsen had successfully cultivated the goal of the Great Perfection (Dzokchen) and had even realized the essence of mind itself. He acted extensively for the benefit of living beings. In fact, last month he came down here and took away more than a thousand suffering beings from those mountains over there and here. A lama like that is excellent. When you went to ask him for Buddhist teachings, he asked you to be his secret consort, but in disgust you thought, ‘I’m a girl of good patrimony and high standing. Some lama traveling the county on pilgrimage said that to me?!’, so your faith was perverse. You left him after asking for teachings and tattled to your girlfriends about what had happened.”
The young girl Chödrön said in her own defense, “Because that lama had already realized the lack of true existence of all phenomena, it was not appropriate for him to ask that of me.”
And Yama replied, “When that lama died, miraculous signs and relics appeared and a rainbow filled the sky above. There were many positive signs of his divine realization and I thought he might even guide you out of here, but now you will receive retribution for your perverse faith!”
The girl said, “I was ashamed and thought it wasn’t necessary to go with and believe him, so I went away and said harsh things about him to my girlfriends.”
Yama responded, “Because you had bad faith in the lama and expressed this to a lot of people, many also lost faith in him. Those people must also be made to go to the lower realms. The lama’s students in that local valley were harmed as a result of your gossip. It is a greater sin to denigrate and slander lamas and teachers than it is to murder a thousand living beings, including the chief among them, humans, horses, and dogs. Now, there is no need to cast the black and white pebbles representing your accumulated sins and virtues. You are indeed a very beautiful young girl of high standing, but the terror you are now feeling is good. You have accumulated in your life much gold, turquoise, and coral, and yet all of that is of no benefit to you now. You requested Buddhist teachings and broke your vows and commitments. Because you did harm to the lama, you must go down to all the hell realms. You’ll be dragged by your tongue and neck down below and as many as a thousand iron spikes will be driven into you. You’ll be beaten about the head with hammers. Furthermore, you’ll stay at that mountain over yonder until your life span there is complete. Then you must experience swift suffering and shoulder the penalty for harming the lama. Your life span here will be sixty-five years. At your tender age of twenty, it was not the right time for you to come here, but because you committed the faults of disobeying the lama and having perverse faith, you had to die before it was time. Now you’ll experience the sort of suffering that will drive you insane!”
That young girl began trembling and crying heavily. Yama’s minions taunted her, “If you wish to cry forever, you can live in the Howling Hell!” They grabbed her with iron hooks, bellowing, “Kill! Kill! Strike! Strike!” and, raising up their weapons, they dragged her off. The young girl warned, “Don’t have bad faith and perverted ideas about those lamas you share a religious connection with. Slander is a terrible sin!”
[’Das log gling bza’ chos skyid kyi rnam thar, in Two Visionary Accounts of Returns from Death (Dolanji, India: Tibetan Bonpo Monastic Center, 1974), 375–378. Trans. BJC.]
We have earlier met Khyungpo Neljor, the founder of the Shangpa Kagyü tradition, who based his esoteric teaching on his visionary encounters with the Indian yogin
ī Niguma (see
chapter 7). According to her prophecy, the teaching that she imparted had to be kept strictly secret, transmitted to only one chosen disciple in each generation for a period of seven generations, after which it could be promulgated more widely. As the seven generations were counted from the primordial Buddha Vajradhara and then through Niguma, Khyungpo was already the third in the line. Accordingly, the Shangpa tantric system passed from him to the adepts Mokchokpa, Kyergangpa, and Nyentön Rigongpa before reaching the “seventh jewel,” Sanggyé Tönpa Tsöndrü Senggé (1219–90). It was he who, following the prophecy, “released the seal” so that, among his disciples, the Shangpa tradition at last spread throughout Tibet.
Sanggyé Tönpa’s success as a teacher stemmed not only from his possession of secret tantric instructions but perhaps even more from his reputation for personal sanctity, the proof of which, in the eyes of later generations, was found in the testimony concerning his death. Indeed, he was one of the first Tibetan masters to be honored by a separate “death biography,” in addition to the standard record of his life, providing an account of his final days. From this striking document, transmitted among the collected lives of the successive masters of the Shangpa lineage, this selection is drawn. MTK
The glorious Lama Sanggyé Tönpa realized the body of reality that benefits oneself. Then, by means of the two form bodies, he acted for the welfare of all beings. His understanding of reality as it is and as it appears enabled him to know every thought of every sentient being, so that in all his activities, he was able to pacify and ease beings according to their individual abilities.
Sanggyé Tönpa was soft-spoken, his behavior always in accord with the Sūtra on Perfect Conduct. When he traveled even just for a day, he took a Buddha statue, a notebook of advice related to his practice, a small book containing extraordinary sayings from the sūtras and the Lamas, a pot of ink so he could write, his vajra, bell, and monastic robes. Every day, Sanggyé Tönpa did three thousand circumambulations and prostrations; he presented food and water offerings. He kept the six-fold praxis of the great Shangpa lineage masters—engendering bodhicitta and avoiding thoughts of [mere] personal liberation; making confessions, vowing restraint, and avoiding transgressions; staying with practitioners and avoiding ordinary people; accumulating merit and avoiding nihilists; dedicating the merit and avoiding unskilled beings; practicing all these and avoiding conceptual reference points.
He renewed his vows and engendered bodhicitta at the six times of day and night. No matter what activity he was engaged in, he cited Dharma sayings, sang vajra songs, and recited mantras with each breath. He once said to his disciples, “Those who’ve spent their whole life in solitude, like me, are rightly called Mountain Men. Now, I want to die in the mountains, where I can hear the sound of birds.” Sanggyé Tönpa practiced virtue by reading and writing as much Dharma as possible. He dedicated all the wealth in his possession to the three gems—Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha—and to sentient beings, keeping nothing for himself.
One day, there was a wonderful omen: he was sitting on a mountaintop, and his body gave no shadow. At that instant, he knew every thought of every being, as well as their past and future lives, all that had occurred, and all that was yet to happen. Later, when Sanggyé Tönpa gave a Cakrasaṃvara empowerment, he became Cakrasaṃvara himself, and all saw him as Cakrasaṃvara. Likewise, when he gave an Amitāyus empowerment, Amitāyus could clearly be seen. When he gave the empowerment of the Five Tantric Deities, ḍākas and ḍākirīs appeared with their retinues and helped him draw the maṇḍala. The sky was filled with the Five Tantric Deities.
Time and again, during Illusory Body Yoga empowerments, lepers, madmen, sick people, those with chronic diseases and long-term illnesses and so forth, were purified like dust blown off a conch shell. By merely hearing the name of Lama Sanggyé Tönpa, good practitioners, neophytes starting on the path, and pilgrims who came to Yöl and met the Lama, saw their practice improve. In short, many who came to request the Dharma from him were illuminated [by his presence]. As more and more disciples practiced virtue, he set up both a school and a meditation center. To patron men and women, he propounded the Vinaya code of discipline, the oral teachings, and both the new and old traditions. His sky-blue activity was so pervasive that it touched disciples from the shore of the Chinese ocean to Jalandhara in India.
4Although he was approaching death, Sanggyé Tönpa headed for Shang because of a previous karmic connection there. Once he arrived, he prostrated before the relics of the Shangpa Lama [Khyungpo Neljor] and presented offerings.
Sanggyé Tönpa continued to practice and give teachings. One day, he told his disciples, “When I die, I’ll just be trouble for you!” and headed for the mountains until he came to Yöl. At that moment, magnificent rainbows filled the sky. He was invited to spend the night in a home, and to everyone who came to meet him, he said, “I may have brought just a very little bit of benefit to beings. Now if I last another year or two, I shall meditate on primordial awareness.”
One day, an abbot came in and took the pulse of Sanggyé Tönpa. Worried, the abbot said, “I can’t feel any pulse. He probably won’t last more than three months. Anyhow, what kind of yogi is this man? Should we have special ceremonies for his good health, or what?” Sanggyé Tönpa replied, “It’s all the same to me whether there is a ceremony or not. At the time of death, all I need is perfect meditation on the clear-light nature of mind. Nothing else can benefit me.”
Many practitioners, old and new, came to see him. To the older practitioners, he said, “I am delighted that you have come. Stay for a few more days; we will talk together.” And the next several days, he clarified specific points for them. To his new practitioners, he said, “I am delighted that you, too, have come. If I don’t die right away, I would like to finish giving you the precious teachings. But now I am waning like the moon on the twenty-ninth day.” To the great meditators of upper Yöl who came to see him with their entourage full of respect and devotion, he said, “The various causes and conditions for our present connection are now fading. Pray fervently that we may all meet again in the future.”
And to all the monks, old and young, he gave the following advice, “Generally, in this life one should strive for an understanding of death, impermanence, karmic cause and effect, and the faults of sa
ṃs
āra. In this life, there’s not a single useful word to say. The only way to develop qualities is to cut short distractions. Meditate now: death comes to everyone! Give up household concerns or possessions. Recognize the demon of worldly bustle and understand the false lure of wishes and desires. See the activities of this life as the enemy and flee the company of evil men. Genuine devotion for a pure spiritual guide arises through meditation on death and impermanence. If you meditate in this way, you will renounce this life. If you do not abandon this life, it will quickly abandon you! If you don’t give it up, then all your actions will only cause you meaningless suffering. All your attendants and servants are like ants, and all your possessions as impermanent as a passing cloud. Stay in the forest, like antelopes. Don’t be parrots like the knowledgeable experts—the know-it-alls with their tales. Arouse the proper aspiration, give up this world!
“If you heed my words, if you develop faith and devotion for the Lama, you will naturally experience illusoriness. You will spontaneously have lucid dreams, and clear light will arise naturally. Consider this advice carefully, and practice! Of those qualified to give instructions, I am the best. Others may equal me in intellectual understanding, but I am unparalleled as a meditator. Others may be like me, but none with the same insight as me. Yet even I do not know how much longer I will live! There won’t be many more like me in the future. Let these words and their meaning sink in.”
In the summer of the ox year, after he taught the Dharma to many monks, Sanggyé Tönpa told them, “Now I am an old man, I don’t know when I will die. I have no wealth to show off. I’m just going to head out into the mountains. After I’m dead, you should take off my clothes and let the vultures and wild animals feed on my corpse.” The disciples felt their eyes fill with tears. Sanggyé Tönpa continued, “Wherever one goes, there is no place that has not been touched by death, neither in the sky nor in the bottom of the sea, neither in the mountains nor in the canyons, nor anywhere else.”
There he spent the rest of the summer on the mountain expounding on the Dharma to a multitude of monks. One day, he went to a monastery in Rinpung and said, “Last night, I received a sign from my two Lamas—omens of death.” Now, Sanggyé Tönpa did know of two or three practices to increase one’s life span. But some years earlier, he had concluded that these were just mental activity and so he had set them aside. “Now is the right time for me to move on,” he said. “Time for me to die. I don’t have any last words, I won’t leave any last will.”
One evening as winter approached, Sanggyé Tönpa climbed the ladder leading to his room. He sat on his bed and murmured, “Now, I cannot carry this body anymore. It seems I must go on to another realm, though I could stay here a little longer if I really wanted to.” His disciple Tönpa Zhönnu Gön burst into tears and begged him, “O Lama, please don’t say that! Please stay for the benefit of beings!”
Sanggyé Tönpa waved off the plea by saying, “You won’t find any state that lasts forever in [this world of] composite things. All composite things are impermanent. But don’t let that sadden you. Be happy!”
For the next ninety-one days, Sanggyé Tönpa presented
torma offerings to Mah
āk
āla.
5 At the end, he said, “To you, Mah
āk
āla, I have given
tormas all my life. So I ask that until I reach the pure realm, you guide and protect me.” As spring passed, Sanggyé Tönpa said, “I have been meditating well this last year. If things continue like this, it’d be worth my staying a little longer.”
Later, when summer was on its way out, Sanggyé Tönpa began to show signs of illness. His students suggested performing ceremonies for his good health, but he replied, “I don’t care whether you do such a ceremony or not—do as you wish! If I tell you to perform a special long-life practice, you’ll develop attachment to this life. If I tell you not to, you’ll get attached to all the money you didn’t spend on the ceremony!” Sanggyé Tönpa then said, “You disciples, prepare some fine torma offerings. As for me, I need to go to my Lama’s monastery in Rigong. Lama Rigongpa said that I should die near his relics. If I don’t, I would be breaking my samaya [tantric oaths]. So I’d better go to the monastery and see his relics.”
Sanggyé Tönpa, some of his visitors, and his disciples left on the full moon, and he gave his attendants several profound pointing-out instructions on the deity generation stage. Once in Rigong, they asked, “Precious Lama, once you have gone to the pure land, how will this lineage expand? What will happen to this monastery in Rigong? What should we, your disciples, do?”
Sanggyé Tönpa replied, “According to the prophecies of the Lamas, I’ll go to the Eastern Pure Land of Metok Trampa. Direct your prayers there. My teachings now extend all the way to Jambudvīpa and my good students number a hundred and eight secret yogis, of which twenty-one will bring benefit to beings in this life. Others will spread [the teachings] in this and future lives. As for the monastery here in Rigong, my Lama Sanggyé Nyentön Rigongpa has said things about it. But I won’t disclose them.
“If you want to listen to me, here is my advice: do not cling to fame, glory, or happiness either in this life or in future lives. Don’t get mixed up in the eight worldly concerns. Instead, go into the mountains and practice. The extremes of mental imputation do not need to be cleared from the outside. Rather, the qualities will arise from within. Remember this well!”
[Nicole Riggs, trans., Like an Illusion: Lives of the Shangpa Kagyu Masters (Eugene, Or.: Dharma Cloud Press, 2001), 159–166, selections.]
Relics, the physical remains of a holy person left after their passing, are used to resolve a persistent problem in religious traditions that place a high value on the personal relationships between teachers and disciples: the death and loss of the teacher and the ensuing rupture in his or her lineage, teaching, and blessing. The classic accounts of relics appear in stories of the Buddha himself: when he died, his disciples could not agree where his relics should be deposited after his cremation. A heated dispute raged until a leader emerged to suggest that the Buddha’s remains be divided into eight equal portions and placed within eight separate reliquary stūpas in as many shrines throughout the region. From the eleventh century onward relics were also attributed to Tibet’s holy people, as the following examples show. Relics (called ringsel in Tibetan), apparitions, and miracles surrounding the deaths of Tibetan masters were local affairs, however, and for the most part hagiographers felt little need to make explicit reference to Indian precedents. Yogins and scholars alike produced relics at the time of their death, and in the early centuries of Tibetan life writing we find such accounts from members of all schools. The relics of the great scholar of Zhalu monastery, Butön Rinchendrup, for instance, were also distributed far and wide to both commoners and leaders: “[Seven days after death Butön’s corpse] was cremated, and the crematory was not opened for one month. Many disciples, patrons, and religious figures gathered to make offerings to the remains. After one month the crematory was opened, and the remaining relics were then distributed to all regions, from India to China and all over Nepal and Tibet. The emperor and his sons, and the Dharma Lord Sönam Gyeltsen Pelzangpo and his nephew were at the head [of the relic recipients]. Great and small, important and inferior, high, low, and in-between [the relics] reached the hands of all disciples gathered there, and were transferred into stūpas” (after D. S. Ruegg, The Life of Bu ston Rin po che [Rome: ISMEO, 1966], 165).
Occasionally specific objects of particular rarity will emerge from the pyre, or even appear spontaneously in the hands of viewers during the funeral proceedings. During the cremation of the fourth abbot of Taklung monastery, Chöjé Trashi Lama (1231–97), a right-turning conch appeared along with “increasing relics” in the hands of an unfaithful person to convert him. Less frequently, relics would fall from the sky in a rain of flowers, as in the case of the seventh abbot, Ratn
ākara (1300–61). In many accounts apparitions of the deceased master, of gods and goddesses, or of st
ūpas or other objects of reverence accompany the formation of bodily remains in the cremation fires. As soon as the body of the first abbot of Taklung was cremated, innumerable heart, tongue, and eye remains came forth, and relics fell out of the billowing smoke. People beheld various apparitions of the master; one person saw him in a halo of light in the sky.
The veracity of relics and miracles in the lives of saints was certainly not accepted uncritically by all Tibetan writers, and it is possible that the many explicit claims to authenticity by appeal to public witness in Tibetan biographical literature were motivated by critiques of relics and miracles. Such phenomena have been subject to debate from at least the thirteenth century, when the important scholar of the Sakya school, Sakya Pa
ṇḍita (1182–1251,
chapter 12) urged his audience to be suspicious of relic forgeries, up to the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, when Lakla Sönam Chödrup (1862–1944) included a lengthy defense of relics in his hagiography of the great Nyingma scholar Longchen Rapjampa (1308–64,
chapter 12 and
13). Although it was accepted that the Buddha himself left relics for his disciples, its polemic attacks on relics issuing from the bodies of Tibetan holy men claim that most cases in the present are forgeries, created only to deceive the gullible. One prominent apologist against such attacks was Sanggyé Dorjé (1549–1645), who offered a defense of the relics and miracles evinced in the life stories of the Kagyü saints while arguing against the critique leveled by Sakya Pa
ṇḍita in the
Analysis of the Three Vows some four centuries earlier. From Sanggyé Dorjé’s perspective, Sakya Pa
ṇḍita was not arguing simply against relics but specifically against the Kagyü schools. It is no wonder, then, that Sanggyé Dorjé devoted a detailed lengthy passage of the hagiography of his teacher, Lhatsewa Ngawang Zangpo (1546–1615), to his death and the distribution of his relics. KRS
The reasons that relics, tongues, hearts, divine images, and so forth, emerge from remains of the deceased should be analyzed a little: the relics of the three noble ones—buddhas, pratyekabuddhas, and arhats—emerge through the power of their enlightened qualities and become supports by which humans can gain merit. These are like gems that come from a (genuine) source such as the ocean or a gold mine.
Some relics are made by demons in order to deceive people, and some arise through being submerged in the four elements, earth, water, fire, and wind. It is also possible that some relics are emanated by deities who delight in the teachings to induce faith toward the departed in people.
These days most of the relics are fabricated deceitfully, [such as those made from] a hollowed-out rock, the fruit of a sealwort, a fish eye, or remains fashioned by Nepalese, and must be analyzed by scholars. The difference [between true and false relics] must be analyzed by scholars.
The emergence of hearts, tongues, and divine bodies are not spoken of in the Buddhist teachings, and all hearts and tongues pulled unburnt from a fire or images carved out of bones by artisans are generally fakes. Even if one were to consider whether a relic is genuine and not made by an artisan, there is no scriptural explanation whether these are good or bad, nor is there a way to infer certainty, so it is difficult to tell whether [relics] are good or bad.
[Sa skya Paṇḍita (1182–1251), Sdom pa gsum gyi rab tu dbye ba’i mchan ’grel, in Sa skya bka’ ’bum ma phyi gsar rnyed phyogs bsgrigs, vol. 3, 319–482; 460.6–462.6. Trans. KRS.]
Tibetan Buddhist tradition offers several reasons against preserving the bodies of Buddhist masters: it is rare in canonical literature; it is rare in Tibet; it does not produce relics; it is harmful to the deceased; it causes difficulty for the process of conscious rebirth into the next saintly incarnation. A work by the Fifth Dalai Lama’s regent, Sanggyé Gyatso, describes mortuary practices for twelve different classes and occupations. Preservation of the corpse is one of several methods to treat the dead, although cremation is said to be the more popular practice across a spectrum of social classes. Kings and members of the Bönpo tradition are singled out as candidates for entombment, ministers may either be entombed or cremated, Buddhist masters should be cremated, and members of the remaining social groups should be cremated, buried in the ground, or left exposed to the elements. The extent to which this list is descriptive or prescriptive is open to investigation, but it is noteworthy that while secular leaders should be entombed, religious specialists should be cremated.
It may thus come as a surprise that the practice of embalming became widespread in the seventeenth century. Examples of earlier embalming can be found in most schools. The mummification of Tsongkhapa is perhaps the most significant in terms of the history of the Gandenpa school. But there was one other preserved master of great importance for the school, the First Paṇchen Lama, Lozang Chökyi Gyeltsen (1570–1662). The Paṇchen Lama was preserved whole in 1662 and placed in a stūpa-tomb at Trashilhünpo monastery in Tsang, fully twenty years before the death of the Fifth Dalai Lama, whose embalmed body is now located within the central chapel of the Potala’s Red Palace. Numerous examples follow the Fifth Dalai Lama in the Ganden school into the twentieth century. Pabongkha Dechen Nyingpo provides a remarkably candid and detailed description of the embalming process in this passage. In the end we learn that the account was given for a specific purpose, in preparation for the impending death of the Thirteenth Dalai Lama. KRS
The procedure for the preservation of the mortal remains of a great being I have not experienced in practice, but I heard myself one day from my root lama Dakpo Bamchö Rinpoché, shortly before his death, the complete instructions about embalming, accompanied by an amusing remark. If I explain this and some traditions by other scholars in a summarized form, the following results.
Every corpse that has to be preserved must be treated with corpse salt and purgative for about one year, before it is brought to a tomb, in order that the blood and all liquids in the tissues are completely soaked up.
Now as to how to administer a purgative: with the help of a newly manufactured funnel of precious metal, a large quantity of mercury should be introduced into the body through the mouth. Concerning the corpse salt, although it is said in the Rite for Corpses that roughly the lower part of the body should be placed in salt, in practice a new container for the corpse should be made, in which the noble corpse can be fully immersed. On its bottom a good quality silk cloth should be spread out on which the lotus, moon, sun, etc., are painted as a seat. Upon it should be placed the noble body on a layer of corpse salt about as thick as a seat padding, the legs crossed in the vajra posture, the hands in meditation gesture or a similar gesture. The corpse should be placed naked in the container, without any shroud, in such a way that nothing, neither the right nor the left side of the body, neither the front nor the rear, comes into contact with the container. Then fine-grain corpse salt should be poured on the body so that the whole corpse up to the skull is completely covered. A lid should be placed on the corpse container thus completely filled. After arranging on it silken ribbons, a parasol, a banner of victory, and a standard, and placing offerings, etc., before it, corpse rituals should be officiated without interruption. At the appropriate time, after a week, etc., the old corpse salt and the purgative that has gone through should be removed, and after washing the corpse and tracing the sacred letters, etc., as previously, fresh purgative and fresh corpse salt should be put into the container and the corpse should be placed in a seated position as previously.
What should be used as a purgative: although there are a few people who say a vegetal purgative should be used, the Lama Rinpoché said that only mercury should be used. After repeatedly administering the purgative as described above, in order to see whether or not it has worked, milk should be used. If it runs unaltered out of the body, then the corpse is completely clean. Then no more mercury should be poured in, just some salt water mixed with camphor, incense, and so on. Now more corpse salt should be used a few more times, and when the corpse is completely dry, the whole body, as well as the main and secondary limbs, should be individually wrapped in pure silk, and then a thin layer of lime mixed with ground, precious stones, and herbs should be applied. After the corpse has been placed into a favorable hand-gesture for his followers and has been provided with attributes, with liquid gold, and the Opening of the Eyes has been performed, it should be placed in a tomb.
At the time when the most excellent Great Thirteenth in the reincarnation lineage, the Gongsa Kyapgön Gyelwang Tamché Khyenzik [i.e., the Thirteenth Dalai Lama], indicated he intended to dissolve his body in the sphere of Dharma, and his assistant tutors and others responsible for the noble corpse had asked how they should go about this task on the corpse, the Vajra Holder Pabongkhapa Dechen Nyingpo Pelzangpo gave the answer above. When the
Collected Works were assembled the text of these instructions was not found, for no copies had been made. Later on, however, in the iron-tiger year (1950) the most excellent Senior Tutor of the most excellent Fourteenth Supreme Victor, the Vajra Holder Lingtrül Tupten Lungtok Namgyel Trinlé Pelzangpo, gave me, the pupil of Pabongkhapa, the original document with the greatest pleasure, which I in turn included in the
Collected Works.[Helga Uebach, “A Short Treatise by Pha bong kha pa (1878–1941) About Embalming,” trans. from German by Guido Vogliotti, The Tibet Journal 30, no. 2 (2005): 5–6.]
