Come just as you are

Paltrül was staying in Dza-chukha. He was minding his own business and doing whatever needed to be done, when he received a visitor. Now Paltrül had seen enough monks to last him a while – and at that time he was spending some quiet time with Nyoshul and a few other yogis. It just so happened, at this particular time, that Tértön Chö’gyür Lingpa was having some difficulty with one of his main disciples – a monk by the name of Rinchen Thar-gyé. Now this monk was a khenpo, a master scholar, and a punctilious ecclesiastic into the bargain. He kept the monastic rules with precision but had a tight mind. Chö’gyür Lingpa had tried various approaches with him, but couldn’t seem to shift him in terms of spiritual practice – the man was suffocating in the tension of his own moral purity. Now Chö’gyür Lingpa knew that Paltrül didn’t have much time for monks in general, and this type of monk in particular. He knew that this was the sort of ecclesiastical dignitary who would not immediately get a warm and affectionate reception from Paltrül – so he wrote a letter: “Paltrül old friend,” the letter began, “I’ve got this stick-up-the-arse disciple who’s as proud as a cockerel about being a monk, but seems hell-bent on mediocrity. If you can do something with him, I’d be most obliged. He’s a good fellow in many ways and works hard, but he’s a bit given to prudent sanctimoniousness and assiduous Puritanism. I can’t seem to flush the stuff out of him...” The letter discussed a few details, exchanged a little news, and signed itself off in a cordial manner. When Chö ’gyür Lingpa had finished the letter, he appended his seal and handed it to Rinchen Thar-gyé. “Here m’boy, take this to Dza Paltrül Rinpoche. It’s about time you high-tailed it to Golok and got some teachings and transmissions from him – but don’t come back before you’ve received everything you need to receive, y’hear.”

Rinchen Thar-gyé made prostrations to his teacher, took the letter, and made his way to brigand country. “Take care you’re not buggered on the way!” Chö’gyür Lingpa called after him, but this didn’t manage to alter Rinchen Thar-gyé’s countenance – he was, as usual, frozen with solemnity. He set our for Golok with a party of attendants and finally reached Paltrül ’s place in Dza-chukha.

When Paltrül saw him coming, he called out to Nyoshul, “Hey Nyoshul! A demon king [‘gyalpo’] has come to see us!” Nyoshul looked anxiously to see what sort of being this might be, but could only see a party of monks on horse back with the usual regalia in which such people liked to turn up at monasteries when visiting. “Where?” asked Nyoshul in some perplexity. “Just look Nyoshul,” Paltrül replied and pointed to the head Lama in the party of monks. Sure enough – there was one of the monastic big-shots whom his teacher characteristically held in low esteem. “Show the insufferable blaggard in, if you will, Nyoshul,” Paltrül muttered in a derisive tone, “I’ll not be welcoming him out here, and that’s for sure. I’ll be in my room if he wants anything from me.” Nyoshul waited for the visiting party to arrive and welcomed Rinchen Thar-gyé with all due respect, informing him that Dza Paltrül Rinpoche would see him if there was anything he wanted from him. Rinchen Thar-gyé asked him if he would kindly present a letter to Paltrül from Tértön Chö’gyür Lingpa, and Nyoshul took it with all due haste to his teacher. “Yah, it ’s as I thought,” grumbled Paltrül, “a demon king!” Nyoshul knew that his teacher was not keen on monks, but this one had come with a letter from Tértön Chö’gyür Lingpa himself – surely this was a person worthy of respect and the very best treatment? No. Maybe the very best treatment – but respect was not going to be Paltrül’s way of working. “Why do you call him a demon king?” asked his disciple. “Just look, Nyoshul.” He passed the letter over. Nyoshul was very surprised indeed. “Show the bumptious little bounder in if you will,” Paltrül yawned. And so it was that Rinchen Thar-gyé entered the illustrious presence of Dza Paltrül. He made his formal prostrations and sat before the renowned Lama. “What d ’you want of me then king of pæderasty? There are no young monks to bugger here. If you’re looking for a nice firm pair of buttocks you’d better get back to where you once belonged.” Undeterred by Paltrül’s vulgar remarks, Rinchen Thar-gyé made a highly respectful request for teachings on the Longchen Nying-thig. “Mmmm... Longchen Nying-thig,” repeated Paltrül thoughtfully, “there’s nothing about sodomy in that text... You’d better go someplace else. I don ’t think that I can be of any help to a demonic pæderast...” Suddenly, before the monk could understand what was going on, he was being ushered out of the door. A splendid room was found for him, and he was left to his own devices. A room was also allocated to his attendants, who all slept together next to the kitchen. The whole party was very well treated, but although the Lama’s room was grand, no heating was provided. The next day Rinchen Thar-gyé presented himself to Paltrül with the same respectful request, but Paltrül dismissed him saying “My hiney is too old and baggy to raise your lust, you’d better try someplace else. I hear there’s a new intake of young monks down a-ways, maybe if you get there quick enough you’ll get to them before the other monks have their ways with them.” And as before he was ushered out of the door before he really knew what was happening. His room awaited him.

Now it must be said that the room assigned to him was a rather well appointed apartment – the perfect room to offer to a visiting monastic Lama, and the best room in the place. Every day Rinchen Thar-gyé returned to the room and sat on his own. His spent his time in solitude engaged in his practises and in his studies of the texts. Every day Rinchen Thar-gyé presented himself to Paltrül, and everyday Paltrül dismissed him with some snide remark. One day Paltrül would merely repeat that he was ignorant of buggery. The next day he would say that he could be of no help to one of such great learning. Another day he would say that his own buttocks were too hard and pock-marked from years of sitting in caves to give the monk a decent erection. This went on for a month, and all the while the weather was getting more wintry. The monk was not used to living at the altitude of Dza-chukha and was evidently suffering. Nyoshul, feeling sorry for the monk, asked whether the poor man would ever be ready to receive Paltrül’s teachings. “Maybe,” replied his teacher in lackadaisical style, “but probably not today... maybe tomorrow... maybe never...” Rinchen Thar-gyé was walking sedately across the courtyard at the time, making his way to present himself to Paltrül. His robes were immaculately pleated and his arm was bare in spite of the bitter cold. “He seems so sincere,” Nyoshul reflected, “Can you tell me what it is that’s wrong with him? What is the obstacle that prevents him from receiving your teaching?” Paltrül shook his head in disbelief on hearing this, and said “Just look, Nyoshul.” Nyoshul looked but discovered little from what he saw. All he saw was a monk bearing up well under repeated disappointments, even though he was possibly becoming more miserable as the days wore on. However, he was as well turned out and elegant as the day he had arrived. “Just look, Nyoshul,” Paltrül repeated, “Do you see a man who could leave appearances behind?” Nyoshul watched the monk as he walked with carefully measured tread toward Paltrül’s door.

When Rinchen Thar-gyé entered Paltrül’s presence, he offered his prostrations and said: “I am a well disciplined monk, and I keep monastic vows purely. I maintain the bodhisatva vows and offer up merit to the realisation of all sentient beings. I maintain my Tantric oaths to Lama, yidam, khandro, and protectors. I have studied texts with diligence, and do my best not to waste this precious human rebirth. I have complete trust in your realisation and in the lineage, but I have been here for a month now requesting teachings, and am still unworthy to take refuge in even a few words of your teaching – so now I must regretfully take my leave. I must depart in disgrace, and return to my teacher without having fulfilled his instruction.” Paltrül looked at him severely; but, detecting some change in the monk, did not have him ushered out. Rinchen Thar-gyé’s speech was practically strangulated as he spoke – he was dejected, hopeless, and slightly frantic. “You want to take refuge in a few words of my teaching?” Paltrül enquired, “Wouldn’t you rather take refuge in the tight arse of a young monk?” Rinchen Thar-gyé spluttered in total exasperation “But Rinpoche... this sodomy business has nothing to do with me!” Paltrül eyed him carefully and stated in slow, even tones, “And – your pretences – have nothing – to do with – me.” Then, quite unexpectedly, Paltrül roared with laughter: “Come back tomorrow – but come just as you are. If you come just as you are, I will give you a few words of teaching!” Again he was ushered out of the room and returned to his apartment.

Rinchen Thar-gyé sat alone in his room wandering what Paltrül had meant. He was painfully cold – so cold that he had to give up turning the pages of his liturgical text. He wrapped his shawl around him but the bitterness of the temperature was more than he could bear – he was reduced to shivering, tormented by Paltrül ’s parting remarks. The words “Come back tomorrow just as you are” flapped uselessly around his head. What could he do with such an injunction? Whatever he did – however he presented himself – it would be the same as before: accusations of anal intercourse... But “Just as I am...” he pondered... “But what am I, that is not apparent? I ’m a monk – but he knows that... what else can I be? How can it be that I am something that I do not even know about?” This was impossible – totally impossible. How could he be just as he was, when he was always – just as he was... An hour passed. Another hour. Then suddenly something outlandishly preposterous occurred to him: “I’m cold,” he thought... “I – am – cold... If that is not just who I am then there’s nothing else! I – am – cold! I – am – very – damn cold! I – am – going to freeze my butt off in this damn room!”

Rinchen Thar-gyé got up immediately and left his room. He went directly to the kitchen – the only place where he knew that some sort of warmth would be guaranteed. There were some of his monk attendants in the kitchen drinking tea with the cook, and he joined them. They were all most honoured by his visit, and he joined them in their simple good-humoured conversation. The place where his monk attendants slept had some warmth that came from the kitchen, and there was a hearth where dried yak dung was burning. He enquired tentatively whether there was space to sleep there. The monks were most surprised, but were only too happy to have him join them. He spent the day talking with them and keeping warm. His monks offered him some of their thicker clothing but he declined to take it from them. Instead he borrowed a woollen monastic jacket from the cook – a blackened greasy affair. It was patched so much that it was practically shapeless, but it was warm. He slept the night with the monks, and slept so well that he was almost late for his appointment with Paltrül. He was in such a hurry that he lashed his robes about his person in an unprecedentedly untidy fashion. He beat a hasty path to Paltrül’s door with his shawl wrapped tightly around him against the villainous chill factor of the wind that swept through the courtyard. His robe was a bit besmirched with soot from the fire, and he gave the appearance of a dishevelled monastic menial worker. He had no time to wash, eat breakfast or present himself in anything close to a suitable manner; and in this embarrassing state, he threw himself to the ground in front of Paltrül. “Welcome, welcome, dear fellow!” Paltrül greeted him, “Forget prostrations! Sit! Be comfortable! Eat with us! You’ll have missed your breakfast I’ll be bound! A smoky room makes for heavy sleep.” Poor Rinchen Thar-gyé had only managed one prostration – he had simply crumpled onto the floor in a flood of tears. “Nyoshul!” Paltrül called, “Help our good monk up, make our venerable friend comfortable! Today we’ll have a few words of teaching!” It was a while before Rinchen Thar-gyé had composed himself, but when he did they eat together as if he had just arrived as an honoured guest. After a good breakfast, he sat with Nyoshul and a few other yogis and listened to Paltrül ’s teaching. There was a joy and radiance emanating from him that was palpable. The change that had come over him was astonishing to Nyoshul. This was a different man! What had happened to the exalted pietistic monk overnight? When the teaching was over Paltrül announced that he would give the monk the entire cycle of transmission, teachings, and commentaries of the Longchen Nying-thig. Rinchen Thar-gyé was overjoyed. He was just about to leave when Paltrül called after him “By the way, I hear there’s no fire in your room – you must have been freezing in there! I will see to it that you have some heating.” Rinchen Thar-gyé responded that there he had found a perfectly comfortable place to sleep. Nyoshul was amazed. “He’s been there in all this cold without a fire?” Paltrül face assumed a more serious demeanour, and he replied in reverential tone “Extraordinary, isn’t it. Just look, Nyoshul – this – is – one – exemplary – monk.”