honour

In the forest, a child, an infant not yet born, came to me and said: “I died but since then I have been born many times. My mother need not grieve for me, because I have been born many times. Many times did I come to her, in others” I said to that child: “I honour you for that.” I said: “Already you have turned into an adult in this world. You have grown, you are making your mark. The child answered: “I needed to be born in the human realm to liberate sentient beings.” My heart spoke out and I said to the mother of that child: “I honour you, I honour you for that.” I said to the powers of that place, to the wind and the rain and the trees and the thunderbeings: “There is no need for mourning, there is no need for grief. That child has made its way in the world, it has grown up, it has already left the house. May all beings benefit.”

dal

When I had broken my fast and we had our first real meal, in the late afternoon, F. asked each of us what our favorite food was. I did have to think for a moment, but then I remembered. It’s dal and chapati or paratha. I remembered living in the ashram on Den Texstraat for a while and making dal and paratha late at night, with Surinder. I’ve made dal countless times, in huge quantities and to me it is essence of comfort food, but only if it comes with chapati or such. So I thought I’d give the recipe. It’s easy to make, but there are a few tricks that will make your dal taste better. I’m of the school that cooks the dal separately from the seasonings, so, wash half a cup of toor dal (yellow split peas) thoroughly and then cook them in water that you have seasoned with a teaspoon of turmeric. Don’t add salt, because your peas will take longer to cook. People who own a pressure cooker can use that to cook their dal. I often do that, and it takes me only 20 minutes to cook dal until it is soft. Meanwhile, in a sauté pan, heat a generous tablespoon of ghee, and add 1 teaspoon of mustard seeds, 1 teaspoon of cumin seeds, 1 inch of peeled and chopped fresh ginger, and 5 dried curry leaves. When the whole spices have toasted and start to be fragrant, add 1/2 teaspoon of turmeric, 1 teaspoon of asafetida, and a teaspoon of salt. Make sure not to burn the spices: this process takes only a few minutes. Then, add 2 – 3 chopped tomatoes. Once they have started to cook down, transfer the cooked dal to the pot and add enough water to make it the consistency of a thick sauce. Check the seasoning and add some salt if necessary, then, in a small saucepan, heat a tablespoon of ghee, and add a teaspoon of cumin, a teaspoon of mustard seed and a piece of chopped red chili, depending on how spicy you want the dal to be. When the spices nearly burn, remove from fire and immediately add to the hot dal.

For chapatis, use “atta”, roti or chapati flour. If that’s not available use half wholemeal flour, half ordinary flour. Use 1 part water to 3 parts flour and a teaspoon salt to make a firm but kneadable dough. When chapatis can’t be rolled out to be very thin, it’s often because the dough is too dry. Knead the dough for 10 minutes, preferably more, and let it rest for an hour, preferably more. Leaving the dough overnight will get you very light chapatis. Make walnut sized balls and roll these out, as thin as crèpes, then turn the stack upside down and bake the bread on a very hot griddle or in a heavy – based skillet: cook it on one side for a minute, then turn it and cook the other side. If you push down on the chapati, using a clean towel, it will puff up. The same thing happens if you hold it over fire with tongs. When the chapati is cooked put it on a stack, put a little ghee or butter on top and keep the stack warm in a clean towel. Chapatis are best eaten hot.

alien

One of the things that immediately struck me when I was out in the forest was how alien humans are there. A. had warned us beforehand for some of the animals that inhabit that part of the forest: deer, wild boar, moose, lynx, wolf and bear and coppersnakes and adders. And when I got to my spot, I immediately felt like an intruder and some measure of fear because I had no control whatsoever over my environment. I had surprised everyone by insisting on wearing thin-soled shoes instead of the “waterproof boots” that were in the equipment list. But I figured I’d rather feel the soil beneath my feet than have dry feet and feel nothing. I don’t think there were many animals about, and that of course, was due to me, because I was the alien presence in that wood. I had brought fire-making things, and I did make two fires, then became too tired and stopped doing that. The ability to control fire is what makes us human, and alien at the same time. I could have been from another planet and landed in that patch of forest, that’s how it felt. I didn’t lose that feeling of “alienness”. P. who quested at the same time, in another spot, nearby, did have an experience of becoming one with his animal powers and experienced them more than I did, while for me it was the elements, the wind and the rain the being “rolled round in earth’s diurnal course”. Boundaries did fade, but to the extent that I gave up my resistance against dying. When we came back to the gate and F. challenged us to state for what we wished to enter, P. said “life”. But I said “joy”.

fasting

Four bitter nights on the mountain with one undercurrent of joyous thought: that I had learned to fast properly. A. taught me carefully how to slide into fasting without any fuss and how to slide out of it. And she started me on a practice of fasting weekly for 36 hours. Not for not-eating but to make the transition a smooth and a painless one. It was amazing to me how effortless this all was, and I thought: “Now I’m really on the path towards death.” In those four nights, I said all that had to be said, for now. There will be, there may be more for goodbyes, but not now. So I set out on this path to learn to take death in hand. I was very instructive to see how four days and four days really is the limit of “fasting without consequence”. Already after the third day, I had to mildly force myself to drink, and I drank less than in the preceding days. I imagine that after four days one enters new territory. I used to sail on the IJsselmeer, from Hoek van’t Land towards Enkhuizen: the first part under shelter of the coast off Durgerdam, but past the Horse of Marken lighthouse, a new world began of higher seas and more wind. Beyond the point of no return.

I’ve been trying the waters so to speak and swimming was easier than I might have imagined. A consolation, and a huge relief that taking dying into my own hands should be such a simple thing. The complicated thing, of course, is the psyche separating itself from relationships and friendships and objects of love. The work is greater in this respect, but the consolation is that I can say everything that has to be said, can make amends, can remember together, great times, moments so dear to my heart. Good to visit them one more time. Good to visit me one more time.

fasting

Four bitter nights on the mountain with one undercurrent of joyous thought: that I had learned to fast properly. A. taught me carefully how to slide into fasting without any fuss and how to slide out of it. And she started me on a practice of fasting weekly for 36 hours. Not for not-eating but to make the transition a smooth and a painless one. It was amazing to me how effortless this all was, and I thought: “Now I’m really on the path towards death.” In those four nights, I said all that had to be said, for now. There will be, there may be more for goodbyes, but not now. So I set out on this path to learn to take death in hand. I was very instructive to see how four days and four days really is the limit of “fasting without consequence”. Already after the third day, I had to mildly force myself to drink, and I drank less than in the preceding days. I imagine that after four days one enters new territory. I used to sail on the IJsselmeer, from Hoek van’t Land towards Enkhuizen: the first part under shelter of the coast off Durgerdam, but past the Horse of Marken lighthouse, a new world began of higher seas and more wind. Beyond the point of no return.

I’ve been trying the waters so to speak and swimming was easier than I might have imagined. A consolation, and a huge relief that taking dying into my own hands should be such a simple thing. The complicated thing, of course, is the psyche separating itself from relationships and friendships and objects of love. The work is greater in this respect, but the consolation is that I can say everything that has to be said, can make amends, can remember together, great times, moments so dear to my heart. Good to visit them one more time. Good to visit me one more time.

laboratorium

My retreat came and went and immediately afterwards things started to ferment in my mind, spurred on by the conversations that had been going on over the days that we prepared and then afterwards during a day of glorious summer, after very inclement weather. Even right up to F. and A. dropping me off at Landvetter for the plane ride home, talk revolved around access to teachers and teachings. We talked about how vitally important it is, that now, that we are at a pivotal time in human history, leaders stand up and point the way spiritually, point the way to the after-culture. What will the world be like when our children will be adults, and after we have left these bodies? It came to me, while in the forest, that the question “what will happen next” does not concern a collapse, or a catastrophe. That’s the stuff news stories are made of and they paralyze by fear. Rather, a different life is a matter of a minute shift sideways. A tiny change in perspective, in view. It consists of not looking beyond, but within and returning to that which makes the Torah say that we are created in Gd’s image, be-tselem. And so I fasted, and considered I might very well die there. In fact I might have died there, but I didn’t. Just a small shift sideways prevented that.

We talked about monasticism, about how it’s a shame that monastic communities are only religious, about providing everyone with the chance of experiencing monastic practice for a while. I thought about the practice periods during the monsoon, when wandering forest monks would congregate and practice together. And I thought about the “gar”, a yogic encampment, that includes all practitioners present there in its mandala. And with P. I talked about the importance of cultural customs, even newly created ones and about the spirit of sharing, of generosity. And about how if someone is seeking out a teacher, establishing a close relationship is best, ultimately, that much of learning consists of hanging out with teachers and picking up their way of doing, of being.

Before I went through the gate, the fact that apparently I can now only teach from the cremation ground, caused a day of bitter weeping. Then I was in the forest and amid the “strong wind and tall trees”. And started shifting towards dying first, then being reborn. No grand gestures, just an overwhelming sense of freedom and softness and love. At the end of the last, bitterly cold night, I finally climbed down from the mountain.

packing

Increasingly my thoughts are turning towards the retreat and its tasks. My fasting schedule is a little bit more intense now, and I need to start thinking about packing. It’s ludicrous not to prepare for being outside and for sleeping outside, but that’s something I’ve done before. It’s the other stuff, the “medicine” so to speak that’s important. I think about the demons and the allies quite a lot. E. told me to use objects that represent an aspect of them to gain access, and that’s the medicine I have been seeking. A feather, a necklace, a tent stake, a rattle. Four objects for four allies. Of course it’s tempting to think that this is “preparation”. Truth is, that probably I’ll be so occupied, will have my hands so full that the use of these objects is probably something romantic. The real situation will be different and I cannot know what I will encounter there. So, best not to have any expectations, neither the fear of failure nor the hope for success, as the saying goes, in Dzogchen. There’s a loneliness to this that is hardly bearable, so strong is its finality, the feeling of being cut off. I suspect that this will intensify to the point of breaking. The point at which something will have to give, if the outcome is not to be madness. So, relax, don’t over-practice now, don’t ask too much of myself, nor too little. Keep the balance. Yesterday I said to someone that I’m very happy with my present reprieve. Decisions can come after, I don’t have to worry about that now, so step by step, slowly, slowly.

allies

When I decided to accept F.’s offer and retreat on his land, it was clear to me that I would have to sort out some issues beforehand. So, with E.’s help, I raised four demons by means of a Chöd-like practice and turned them into allies, by feeding them with what the told me they needed. Originally I thought that four allies would be enough for the hill top, but I turned out to have raised 6 allies, 4 main ones and 2 helpers. It’s all too easy, in the vajrayana, to become seduced by the corporeality of the practice, the visualizations, the work with the Yidam and with the Dharma protectors. Jung had his own solution to that, and declared them archetypes and ironically, robbed them of much of their potency in the process. I think the essence of Yidam is that they are both a psychological mirror, but also an wholly other “Other”, a fully developed Alter, so to speak. The practice invites us to become this Alter, to see the world through his or her eyes and see it as the perfect abode of the Buddha. This can only happen if we consider the Yidam to be -also – wholly Other. Yet the pitfall is that we may give it life, by believing in its existence “from its own side”. This is an error, and it is important to always remember that everything about the practice, including yourself is empty, void. That’s what we do when we speak the “emptiness” formula at the beginning of the practice proper, and then set out to entirely fill the enclosure in with the compassion for all sentient beings.

advance

Today I made a kilaya torma, a first, and for practice. If that initiation ever happens, I’ll have to make at least 30 kilaya tormas during it, so I thought I’d get in the practice. Always difficult to get the hang of it again, but the memory of making thousands of vajrayogini tormas is still in my hands and it wasn’t too hard after I got properly organized. The kilaya tormas are shaped like knives of course, like the stakes they represent and they’re difficult to get symmetrical. I did the best I can do, I guess, and they’re presentable. I’m no torma virtuoso, but it’s nice work making them again. The vajrayogini torma and its retinue didn’t take as long this time, and they came out nice. About two hours I reckon, and I spent another two hours on the kilaya torma. I make these in the kitchen and that’s the right place for it, as they are food. The funny thing is, it made me want to cook, to bake things. Not bad, cooking in this manner is the essential gift. Nurturing.

Earlier this week, D. asked me what I was expecting to happen during my retreat. I explained a little about the fasting and the conditions of it and about F.’s and A.’s way of supporting questers. I don’t expect too much. I do know I go there with a lot of karma to be purified and with many amends to make. I’m curious, I’m not going to force myself one way or another, as I feel that staying open to experience will best see me through to the end. May I be worthy of it.

tormas

We’re putting up the ger for I. and D. next week, so some planning is required. Check lists, confirmations by the ger builders that they’ll really be there next week. We said that we’d make the interior nice and put up a shrine there, so I’ve chosen a beautiful White Tara thangka, one of my statues of vajrapani and the full shrine kit-out. Offering bowls, kapala, butter lamps, katags. And I’m making a full complement of tormas, like how you would make them in retreat, with the main torma and its retinue, protective tormas and a boundary marker so that their space is well protected when they spend the night in it. The tormas are a little clunky, but alright. I’ve never been a very proficient torma maker, but I like the practice. Earlier, last months, I made the full retreat tormas for E., for her retreat, offering them from afar. I use modeling clay for them but it’s important, i feel, to mix in some food, some butter, or dutsi. The idea is that working the tormas confers the practitioner’s powers to the offerings. It’s about presenting food in the best possible way. I like that in cooking, although I spend less thought on it. “The eye eats first”. It’s nice that torma making is such a tactile affair. First making the cake itself, getting it to be symmetrical and balanced. Then the moon and the sun disks with the flower petals and the flames. That’s difficult and my petals were uneven, but I’m now getting the hang of it again. Here too, having a good procedure helps, and it means I have to plan in advance more. I now weigh the “dough” I use for all torma components, so it’s easier to get a collection of tormas to be evenly sized. It would be nice to paint them, but I don’t know. They look spectacular, painted, but it seems like too much hard work. Perhaps someone else would paint them for me. In any case, they’ll look nice in the shrine next week. And they’re meant for D. and I’s long life.