I am in California for a week-long workshop on Phowa which is loosely defined as the “Transference of consciousness at the time of death” or “enlightenment without meditation” conducted by a Tibetan veteran monk who goes by the name — Adzom Rinpoche.
It’s almost 8 PM as the last day of the workshop, an especially intense one comes to an end.
As I am walking back from the meditation hall to my quarters excited about meeting my family back again tomorrow, I accidentally take a wrong turn and end up in a narrow passageway leading through the kitchen and into his room.
Two burly monks stop me just outside his room as he peeks out from behind the curtain sitting on a flat cushion on the floor. He smiles and waves at me to come inside and pats the area on the floor next to him.
As I sit down next to him, he in his broken English turns his gaze towards me intently and asks,
“Who you?”, he asks in broken English, peering into my eyes intently.
I interpret this as a greeting — How are you? And I start to tell him I am fine and some empty words about how this workshop was great and….
“I asking, who you?”, he interrupts my incoherence.
“Ah, I am Z. I work as a banking analyst down near…New Hampshire. My family is in…”
He shakes his head at me disappointed.
“But, me asking…who YOU?”, he puts a hand in my shoulder and peers straight into my eyes, his gaze suddenly unwavering.
He has suddenly morphed from a gentle smiling chubby man to a ferocious lion.
As I search for an answer, my mind suddenly goes blank.
Completely blank.
Between stimulus and response, there is a space that opens up and nothing is filling it at the moment.
A wave of something unknown washes over me. Something divine.
Everything is near and everything is simple. Everything is real.
Nothing else matters. It just is what it is and that is profound and that is enough.
I almost feel like laughing.
I almost want to say — “Ah, so this is it.”
A deeper gratitude, an understanding, something mysteriously magical? maybe.
I just don’t know.
All I remember is the colorful katas (Triangular Tibetan flags) hanging above his bald head and the smell of incense permeating the room.
In that instance, it feels like the knowledge of eons comes rushing at me. I am at a complete sense of peace, of rest, as if there is nothing more to accomplish.
It feels like a long time but it’s probably over in a couple of minutes.
He sits back, smiles, and then nods to himself murmuring something to Anya, his closest disciple, and assistant who doubles up as his translator.
She stops translating, suddenly looks up at me, and nods gently, hands folded together ahead of her.
He closes his eyes, murmurs a prayer, and then rings a small bell that seems to materialize in his left hand.
We talk about how I have traveled so far on a whim and how this experience has turned out.
After a while, he turns back towards me.
“What …. you want to become?”, he asks me with an inherent curiosity of a child.
“I would like to become more kinder, gentler, more understanding “, My professionally attuned brain churns out an appropriate response.
“Down”, he makes a downward motion with his hands and then says something in Tibetan to Anya.
“He is saying — Distill it down”
I think for a second.
“I want to, to be satisfied”
“Little Down”, he lifts up two fingers as if he is holding something.
“I want to find meaning in life”, I find another answer.
“Down”, the plump old monk with the shiny bald head is unrelenting, his eyes drilling into me now.
“I DON’T want anything. !!”, I suddenly blurt out.
As soon as I say this, the peaceful feeling that had enveloped me a short while ago is back, like a heavy fog descending upon the whole room.
My mind is completely blank again and yet I am aware of every single detail in that room. Not just what’s happening ahead of me and in the periphery of my vision but also in a weird way behind me.
I have no idea why I said that or even what I mean by it, but even without any translation, he understands.
“Aha! …He hits his thigh with his right hand triumphantly as Anya looks at me with a sudden smile.
The atmosphere in the room visibly relaxes. The monks who seemed to be on an edge, exhale.
I don’t understand much of it and in a couple of seconds I am back to normal as my brain starts to churn out thoughts back again at a rapid-fire pace.
It’s the closest I have come to having an out of body experience and I am greedy for more.
“Go back home now but we will meet again someday……in Tibet”, Anya translates his words as he waves his hand smiling.
I head out late into the night to head back to my quarters a walking distance away from the main building.
Tomorrow, I will be flying back home to Boston.
The mountains are casting a quiet shadow into the valley and the temperature has dropped a couple of California degrees.
There is a whirling inside my brain and inside every whirling is quiet, after the howl undoes itself.
As I walk slowly followed by Anya, I stop her.
“What did he tell you in Tibetan when it happened? I know you suddenly stopped translating”, I ask, not expecting an answer.
She thinks for a second and then instead opens up her arms while holding her brown-orange robes.
As we hug, she slowly turns towards my ear and whispers.
“He said to me — This is what a ripe mango about to fall from the tree looks like.
“He said, this guy was ready”.
