6. Vajradhara—the dharmakaya buddha
My ancestors are deeply connected to a spiritual lineage called Barom, one of the early Kagyu schools.12 The word Kagyu means the teachings (ka) that are transmitted (gyu) in an unbroken lineage from the very beginning until today. It is said that this spiritual lineage traces a continuous line back to the celestial buddha Vajradhara, whose teachings passed through the Indian masters Tilopa and Naropa and then to their Tibetan successors Marpa and Milarepa. The famous yogi Milarepa had many disciples, but there is one who rose to the fore; today we know him as Gampopa, “the man from Gampo,” the root of our Barom tradition.
Before he met Milarepa, Gampopa had studied and practiced the Buddha’s teachings for quite a while and had reached proficiency in the meditative state of samadhi. One day, a beggar happened by and began talking about Milarepa, a great guru, right outside Gampopa’s window. The moment Gampopa heard Milarepa’s name, he was overcome with emotion and called the beggar inside.
7. Gampopa—the forefather of the Kagyu masters
“Where does this Milarepa live?” he asked.
The beggar told the master’s life story: how he had been wronged as a child by his own relatives and suffered, how he mastered black magic and used it to take revenge, then how he had a change of heart, became a renunciate, and was now an amazing master yogi. The beggar ended by saying, “Right now he lives in the province of Ngari. I am one of his disciples.”
“Could I meet him?” asked Gampopa.
“Of course,” replied the beggar.
Gampopa felt a deep yearning to meet this yogi, and, wasting no time, the very next morning he headed for Ngari. He met Milarepa at a place named Auspicious Ridge. Upon merely seeing the master’s face, Gampopa attained the warmth of blissful emptiness. Milarepa told him, “Sit down and train in tummo!”—the yoga of inner heat. After a short time of practice, as you can read in the Life of Milarepa, he showed profound signs of progress connected with the energy currents dissolving into the central channel.13
When Gampopa had gained a highly refined level of insight into Mahamudra, the awakened state of mind, his guru said, “You have spent enough time with me. You must now go to Mount Dakpo and practice in solitude, but before you leave I still have one final lesson for you.”
On the day of departure, Milarepa walked with Gampopa for some distance. After he rested a while on a large boulder, it was time for the final good-bye. Then Milarepa stood up, lifted his yogi’s skirt and showed Gampopa his buttocks. They were so worn down and callused that Gampopa could almost see the bones.
“Listen to me! When training in Mahamudra, do not busy yourself with virtuous deeds of body and speech,” Milarepa explained, “because you risk losing thought-free wakefulness. It was by sitting on these buttocks that I attained realization. I have persevered in the two paths of means and liberation: Naropa’s Six Doctrines and Mahamudra. Easy, comfortable practice won’t get you anywhere!
“Forsake the aims of this life,” he continued. “Practice with fortitude. One day, you will see this old father as a buddha in person. That is when genuine realization of Mahamudra will have taken birth in you. This is my final instruction.”
Gampopa went to stay in a small meditation hut on Mount Dakpo, where he trained with tremendous perseverance, unconcerned with life or limb. Through this effort, his insight deepened until he realized the awakened state that is boundless like the sky. Gradually his following grew vast; five hundred of his disciples became masters in their own right, allowed to bear the parasol of the Dharma, signifying their status as lords of the Buddha’s teachings—no small position. Thus he fulfilled the prediction of Naropa, who said, “My disciples will be more eminent than their teacher, but their disciples will be even more eminent.” And sure enough, the practitioners who sprung from his lineage were as numerous as flocks of birds taking flight and filling the sky.14
Among Gampopa’s foremost disciples was a man named Darma Wangchuk, who is counted as the first master of the Barom lineage. From early childhood he had no other thought than practicing the Buddha’s sacred teachings; as he grew up, his sole aim was to find the best master to follow.
Eventually, the young Darma Wangchuk met a yogi and asked where he was headed.
“I’m going to Mount Dakpo, where the extraordinary Gampopa lives.”
“Take me with you—I want to meet him too!” exclaimed Darma Wangchuk, having made up his mind that very moment. Off they went. Upon meeting Gampopa, Darma Wangchuk immediately became his disciple.
Where I come from, the word ‘disciple,’ is not used lightly. It means someone who practices full-time, who gives up everything to focus one-pointedly on attaining enlightenment in that same body and lifetime. People who merely received a few empowerments or a short teaching now and then were not necessarily counted as disciples.
Darma Wangchuk became the prime example of the kind of disciple who serves his master perfectly in thought, word, and deed. He even saved Gampopa’s life several times.
We Tibetans are in the habit of showing our religious fervor by pushing one another aside to get close to the lama and receive blessings. It can become quite a scene, almost a stampede. Once, at a big market fair, word spread that Gampopa was there, and so everyone at the fair wanted to obtain his blessings—all at the same time, nearly crushing the master. Darma Wangchuk must have been quite a strong man because, the story goes, he lifted Gampopa on his back and carried him to safety.
Another time Gampopa and his following were moving along a steep, narrow trail in the high mountains. The yak Gampopa was riding slipped and fell into the abyss. But Darma Wangchuk was quick enough to catch hold of Gampopa and thereby saved his life.
One day, Gampopa told Darma Wangchuk, “You have served me for a long time and with great devotion. Now the time has come for you to benefit others. Go to the north, to a cave on sacred Mount Kangsar, and devote yourself one-pointedly to meditation practice.” Gampopa then described the mountain and how to get there. Darma Wangchuk pleaded with him, saying that he would rather remain a humble servant, but Gampopa sent him off just the same.
Darma Wangchuk went where he was told and practiced with great diligence, having completely turned his back on striving for food, clothing or fame. The gods and spirits of the mountain brought him provisions, and he stayed there for thirteen years. At the end of his retreat, he could fly through the sky and move freely through solid rock, and he had the signs of an accomplished master.
Darma Wangchuk established his first center in Central Tibet,15 near Mount Kangsar, northeast of Lhasa, where he had spent all those years. An increasing stream of faithful people with offerings, some coming all the way from China, began to find their way there. But after an avalanche buried his temple, he accepted an invitation from the king of Nangchen in eastern Tibet. There he established his second monastery, and over the generations the kingdom slowly became filled with meditators and yogis.
The word ‘meditator’ in my homeland of Nangchen is closely connected with the pointing-out