Solitary Retreat (1of2) — Prostrations in the Snow and the Himalayan Practitioners
After completing the four great Buddhist sacred sites, I had roughly another two or more years of practice at home and medical work. Occasionally I would go to Mount Wutai for a brief retreat. During these retreats I sometimes ate nothing at all, sometimes had one meal a day. All the time was for sitting or reading. In truth it wasn’t quite a proper retreat — just brief periods of withdrawing from the entanglements of worldly life and the turmoil of the seven passions and six desires, sitting quietly in cultivation for a few days.
I remember one winter I was staying at a small guesthouse on Mount Wutai. I would often stand on the second-floor balcony watching the snow. Every morning I saw a monk in tattered clothes making a full prostration with every three steps on his way up to Dailuo Peak. At the time I held a slight bias against people who practice asceticism — I felt it was seeking the dharma outside the mind. One day the Master suddenly asked me to prostrate my way up to Dailuo Peak one step at a time. I figured this was probably because my discriminating thought about that monk had been perceived by the Master, who was preparing to correct me. Dailuo Peak has 1,080 steps. The previous evening it had snowed and a thick layer had accumulated on the steps.
I put on a padded jacket and trousers, pulled on a pair of gloves, and began ascending. The Master said: “Don’t think of anything. Relax body and mind completely, and silently recite ‘Homage to the Great Wisdom Manjushri Bodhisattva’ as you go.” I naturally complied. Ordinarily I had made the ascent of Dailuo Peak many times and would be breathless by halfway up. But this time, the further I went the more comfortable I felt — as easy as pressing my forehead to the ground a few times on flat land. Halfway up, a group of tourists passed by me. I heard one of them say: “How sad — her cotton jacket is soaking through.” Another replied: “I wonder what’s worth all this hardship!” I genuinely wanted to stand up and tell them: it’s not hardship at all. I feel wonderful.
I felt the energy throughout my body thawing and reviving like a frozen river in spring. Warmth suffused me; body and mind opened and expanded; I was smiling with ease. Reaching the top, I found my breath had become long and fine, as though I had just emerged from a sitting session. I saw lotus flowers blooming in my own eyes, mouth, and ears.
From that point on, whenever I saw someone practicing asceticism, my heart would rise with genuine admiration, and I would rejoice in their practice. The experience they are having — perhaps we will never understand it. Whatever dharma door is suited to you is the best one.
Afterward my brother, a friend, and I went together to Tibet. At the Potala Palace I encountered Tsongkhapa. He explained to me some of the Vajrayana methods. As we passed a room where Vajrayana transmissions were given, I laughingly asked Tsongkhapa: “Is there truly a secret to transmit?” He said: “There is a true secret teaching — if you don’t believe me, come in and I’ll transmit it to you.” I followed him into the room. I saw him seated across from me. I stood before him and he suddenly became very solemn; instantly the atmosphere seized me as well and I became deeply reverent. From his mouth he slowly breathed out: “No greed — no anger — no delusion — no pride — no doubt.” With each pair of syllables he breathed out, a rush of white light like a waterfall swept through me from head to foot. When he had finished, body and mind were completely radiant, mind-spirit still and at peace. My entire being had been thoroughly purified.
Once in samadhi I entered deep into the Himalayas. There I saw two cone-shaped ice pillars, perfectly smooth, hollow inside, open at the top. Knowing there were people within, I entered from the opening above. Indeed, inside sat a practitioner. He was glad to see me and asked me some questions in a warm and friendly manner. He told me the ice pillar on the other side was his elder brother, and that they had both been practicing the Vajrayana Mahamudra here for more than three hundred years. Inside, the temperature was cold enough to turn a breath into ice instantly. Our conversation flowed naturally and easily. At the time I was in the process of transforming my heart chakra and felt significant pain in my chest. He looked at me and said: “Be careful — toxic energy attacking the heart. Your energy is insufficient.” He asked me to extend my hand, and pressed his palm against mine. A powerful current seemed to flow from within him, surging through my entire body.
After about half an hour he suddenly withdrew his palm and said in a faint, gentle breath: “Just now I have transferred all the energy within my body into your energy channels. I hope you will soon reach complete realization and spread the Dharma widely.” I was utterly stunned and for a moment didn’t know what to say. He smiled again and said: “It’s nothing. I was already preparing to pass away in the coming days, so this energy is of little further use to me. I’m going now — please go over to that other pillar and let my elder brother know.” In an instant I was in the other pillar, telling the person inside: “Your brother is about to pass away!” The person leapt into the air and vanished through the top of the pillar. A moment later he returned, with a faint shadow of grief. He looked at me with a reproachful gaze, then muttered quietly: “Didn’t even say goodbye.” I described what had just happened as carefully as I could. He sat silently in thought for a long time and then said: “Don’t be troubled — this is not your fault. My brother and I have a karmic connection with you. We have been in the human world for over three hundred years now; it was time to go. To be of some small help to your practice in our final days — we are glad.” With that, he suddenly leapt up and stood on his head in the air, the crown of his head touching mine. I suddenly understood his intention. I was about to stop him, but it was already too late — my head seemed fused with his. There was no resisting the force. Energy like a cascading mountain torrent poured down from his crown into mine. Within a few minutes he flipped down from my head, settled into a cross-legged sitting position, and passed away in peace. I sat motionlessly beside him, waves rising and falling in my heart. When I had finally returned to stillness I called silently to the Master. The Master appeared outside the ice pillar. He already knew everything that had just occurred. He asked me to prostrate before the pillar several times. In the Himalayas there were a few more such remarkable encounters, all of which still move me deeply when I recall them today. They also make me feel, often, that I have given far too little to others. I spent about twenty days in Tibet.