The drönyer acted as a go-between for Mingyur Dorje, asking Chokgyur Lingpa if anything could be done. Chokgyur Lingpa, softening, told him to get a certain text and chant four particular lines about “undoing the web” and “untying the knots” and to accompany this with an offering at the temple to Gyalpo Pehar. They carried out his instructions—and sure enough Mingyur Dorje recovered.
My grandmother told me this story when I was a child. She added that Chokgyur Lingpa was not in the habit of bragging about seeing supernatural beings. On the contrary, he mentioned it only on rare occasions, when specifically asked. Indeed, he rarely volunteered a word about any of his exceptional powers, such as clairvoyance. There were a few rare exceptions, however, as the following story shows.
One fine day, the tertön and his following were riding up the Tölung valley on their way to Tsurphu. As my grandmother rode along behind him, she heard him tell stories of the political infighting and skirmishes that occurred between the factions of the two potential successors to the fifth Dalai Lama, Sangye Gyamtso and Lhabsang.
The two men were excellent friends, and each insisted the other should rule the country—they didn’t want a struggle. So finally they agreed to settle the shift of power with a throw of the dice. Sangye Gyamtso, who was skilled in astrology, picked a favorable day for the event to take place, but the calculations showed that everything had to be settled and completed on that same day. He told Lhabsang, “If I win, you have to pack up and leave with your entire following and all your possessions. If you win, I promise to immediately do the same.”
The dice were thrown and fell in Sangye Gyamtso’s favor. Lhabsang went to prepare to leave, but soon he returned to say, “My wife is pregnant, and it appears she is soon to give birth.”
So Lhabsang stayed on, and during that time political intrigues began to fester. As you know, the wish for political power can exert a tight grip on people’s heart, one not easily relinquished. What happened next would be a long and involved tale, but the long and the short of it is that, at some point, the fledgling regent Sangye Gyamtso found himself alone on horseback trying to escape a band of Lhabsang’s soldiers.
“They caught up with him right there where the road bends,” said Chokgyur Lingpa, pointing at the roadside to everyone’s amazement, “I’m the only one now who knows what happened, since that was one of my previous lives. In those days, important captives were not brought back home but immediately beheaded. See that row of mani stones? That’s where my body fell. My head rolled all the way over there.”
Wide-eyed and amazed at her father’s clairvoyance of past lives, my grandmother rode past the site and continued on to Tsurphu.
Karmey Khenpo told my grandmother the following story: Chokgyur Lingpa decided to go to the marketplace in Lhasa. On one street, all the butchers line up their meat on tables, and all you can see is blood and guts. They hack the flesh off the carcasses and sell it right on the spot.
“Off by herself was a tall woman with a strange look in her large eyes. I thought she had a bluish hue to her face, and in her hand she wielded a large knife. With great skill, she carved off large chunks of meat that she sold to the customers who were lined up.
“What occurred next really took me by surprise. Before we knew what was happening, the tertön had not only walked up to her but bowed his head, and her large hand covered the crown of his head. This was something we had never seen before, and we wondered what he could be up to now. Not only was he asking a woman to bless him, but a butcher at that!
“‘My oh my! How inauspicious!’ I thought. We were flabbergasted, and it wasn’t until we had headed on that I had the chance to ask the tertön who the woman was.
“‘What do you mean, who is she?’ the tertön asked. ‘It seems no one among us is as fortunate as I, for I was the only one to be blessed by the female buddha Vajra Varahi in human form. You could so easily have received her blessing too, but not one of you even thought of asking.’
Karmey Khenpo was a very strict monk who rigorously upheld his vows, including the vow not to touch women. As he later told my grandmother. “There’s no way in the world I would have asked a woman for a blessing!”
My great-grandmother Dechen Chödrön was known as Lady Degah. Chokgyur Lingpa’s personal consort, she was the daughter of one of the twenty-one district governors of Derge. Lady Degah was also regarded as an emanation of Yeshe Tsogyal, the closest disciple of Padmasambhava.
I don’t like saying this, for it may sound like I’m bragging about my family line, but there are scriptures in which the Lotus-Born predicted that Chokgyur Lingpa’s three children would be emanations of the three chief bodhisattvas: Avalokiteshvara, Manjushri, and Vajrapani. The Manjushri emanation was supposed to be his son Wangchok Dorje; the Avalokiteshvara emanation his other son by a different consort, Tsewang Norbu; and the Vajrapani emanation my grandmother.
Lady Degah could be quite wrathful. On several occasions, she set her will against the great tertön—not too seriously, but she was sometimes stubborn enough to start a squabble. She was strong-headed and liked to have a drink now and then, which didn’t bother Chokgyur Lingpa. But he didn’t appreciate her drinking from a garuda claw that he had discovered when revealing a terma. One day, he said, “I didn’t go to the trouble of recovering this rare garuda claw for you to use as a shot glass! I won’t stand for you pouring liquor into it—it’s only for sacred substances!”
12. Yeshe Tsogyal—the great dakini of the Lotus-Born
Lady Degah retorted, “Whether it’s made from a garuda’s claw or a yak’s horn, it holds a drink really well! And that’s what I’m going to use it for!” And she immediately poured herself a drink.
Chokgyur Lingpa fired back, “How easy do you think it is to come by the claw of a real garuda? Such a bird lives only on the summit of the fabulous Mount Sumeru. Padmasambhava concealed it in a terma for the benefit of this time. Its real purpose is to help cure epidemics caused by naga spirits. But day and night, you with your brazen attitude use it for nothing better than having a drink.”
Someone later said that it was Lady Degah’s obstinacy that caused their second child, my grandmother, to be born a girl. But I still feel that my grandmother’s life—whether she had been a boy or a girl—fulfilled the Lotus-Born master’s prophecy that she would be an emanation of Vajrapani. It was thanks to her having four sons, who performed immense service for the continuation of Chokgyur Lingpa’s terma teachings, that they are so widespread today. This stems from her being an emanation of a bodhisattva.
Truly remarkable!
Karmey Khenpo told Könchok Paldrön this story as well:
“During one journey, Chokgyur Lingpa was passing through an area that lies on the road between Lhasa and Kham that was well known as a favorite spot for bandits and thieves to prey on travelers and pilgrims. At this point, the road forks off to the Amdo region, leading into another area full of bandits.
“The leaders of the gangs from each region held a meeting, and for a good reason. ‘We have received news that a large caravan of seven or eight hundred Khampas are coming our way. Some of them are rich and have many pack animals.