Je Khenpo and the Blessing

Gedu Moelam Choemo

“To be blessed” means to be favored by God. Blessings, therefore, are directly associated with God and originate from the divine. In many spiritual traditions, a blessing is not merely a kind wish but a powerful transmission of grace that can purify the soul, heal the body, and restore spiritual balance.

A blessing is essential for removing negative influences from our souls and bodies. We live immersed in a culture saturated with negative attitudes, offensive language, violence, and insolence. The very air we breathe—shaped by the environment we inhabit and the judgments others cast upon us—can make us feel cursed or perpetually anxious that something will go wrong. False judgments against us function like actual curses; they can erode our health, weaken our immune systems, and even manifest as chronic fatigue or illness. The potentially devastating physical effects on people living under persistent false judgments are extraordinary.

Moreover, we are not only burdened by the judgments of others but also tend to harshly judge ourselves. When self-criticism becomes excessive, we must recognize it as a form of self-curse and break it with the authority of God. So when you consider how many people are bound by external and internal judgments, it becomes painfully clear how desperately we all need blessings. This is precisely what any lama would explain during a wang (empowerment) or blessing ceremony.

The Moelam Choemo in Gedu is a yearly religious congregation lasting one full week. The fact that it occurs only once a year underscores its profound importance. During this gathering, various schools traditionally sponsor offerings—such as food, tea, or ritual supplies. Last year, for example, Darla School provided a tokha (a ceremonial lunch) to the public and worshippers on October 18, 2016.

But this year, I was taken by surprise. The school was not given a day off to receive blessings. I learned that our own Je Khenpo (the chief abbot of Bhutan) would personally conduct the final Tshewang (long-life blessing) for the people. Distant schools like Arikha and Pashikha canceled classes for the day. Yet it was deeply disappointing that Darla School—located so near to Gedu—held classes as usual. To be honest, there were quiet grumbles, especially among our faithful students and devoted teachers.

That normal schedule did not stop many people from seeking the blessing. The head of the school called an informal meeting and said that any teacher willing to attend the wang could go. That turned into a real headache: almost all the teachers left, leaving only a handful of students behind in the classrooms. But even that did not deter the students. Nearly all of them left as well, saying their parents were waiting for them at the ceremony. As a result, the school descended into chaos—only a few teachers and students remained. It was utter pandemonium.

I truly wonder why our school was not given a holiday when others were. I also question whether we can genuinely promote our religion, traditions, and culture if important spiritual events like this take place and we are effectively barred from attending. I cannot help but wonder if this very disconnect—this failure to honor sacred occasions at the local institutional level—is one reason why the Darla community now has such a large number of Christians. Perhaps people are seeking elsewhere the blessings they feel denied within their own tradition.

The Mills of the God Grind Slowly BUT Exceedingly Fine

Very recently, I realized that life after death is fair. Our present deeds determine where we go. There are two destinations: heaven and hell. Life, however, is unfair now. Let me explain before you think I've become a doomsday prophet with bad internet.

Those who work hard often get less. Those who devote themselves suffer the most. Those who live honestly have crooked lives—like a tree that grew in a strong wind. Meanwhile, cheaters, liars, killers, and other wrongdoers seem to be rewarded with good lives. They drive nice cars. They sleep peacefully. It's enough to make a good person consider bad things. Almost.

I wish those who commit bad deeds were punished immediately. Like a lightning bolt. Or a sudden sneeze that never comes. But no. The universe has a slow delivery system.

Fortunately, there is a judge of our deeds—not later, but now. Those who cheat, bully, lie, kill, and commit other crimes are said to go to hell, while good human beings go to heaven. It is slow, but it is sure. The mills of God grind slowly, yet exceedingly fine. 

There is cause and effect in everything we do. This hope keeps me far from bad deeds and far from those who commit them. Also, I'm slightly afraid of ghosts. That helps too.

It is difficult to tune with life. Like an old radio. Some days you get music. Some days you get static. But life is life—you go on with good things, good thoughts, good deeds, a good soul—everything good. Yet in the end, we all turn somewhat bad and fallible. Nothing goes entirely according to our deeds now. Those who cheat continue cheating; those who lie continue lying. Such is the life of man—no extremity, no very good, no very bad. One must follow the middle path: the "badly good."

What is "badly good," you ask? It's when you want to scream at someone but instead you just sigh and make tea. It's when you see a cheater win and you don't flip a table. It's survival. With a little dignity left over.

Below is a song I like to sing when people grumble and do nothing. I call it The International Anthem of the Perpetually Unhappy.

Some people must-have.

Some people have not.

But they'll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

Some people will work.

Some simply will not.

But they'll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

Like this:

"It's society's fault I don't have a job."

"It's society's fault I am a slob."

"I have potential no one can see."

"Give me welfare. Let me be me!"

Hey, Bud, you're livin' in the Land of the Free.

No one's gonna hand you an opportunity!

(Unless you have an uncle in the ministry. Then maybe.)

Some people must-have.

Some never will.

But they'll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

"I don't have a house. I don't have a car."

"I spend all my money getting drunk in a bar."

"I wanna be rich. I don't have a brain."

"Just give me a handout while I complain."

Or this masterpiece:

"I wanna stay in bed and watch TV."

"Go out weekends in a limousine,"

"Dance all night takin' lots of drugs,"

"And wake up when I wanna."

Hey, Bud, you're livin' in the Land of the Free.

No one's gonna hand you an opportunity!

(Except maybe a free headache. Those are easy to come by.)

Some people will learn.

Some never do.

But they'll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

Yeah, they'll complain and complain and complain and complain and complain.

So here I am. Trying to be badly good. Watching the cheaters win. Watching the complainers complain. And singing my little song.

The mills of God are grinding. Slowly. Very slowly.

But at least I have tea.

Reading Religious Books(NRY)

(To commemorate the National Reading Year (NRY))

I have read books. A great many books. Most of them were English literature—stories, novels, verses about love, war, and people who never seem to need a bathroom break. But these days, I have switched genres. Dramatically. I am now reading philosophical books. Books of religion.

Why the sudden change? Simple: my age is drawing closer to death, and old age is nicking in. Not kicking in—nicking in, like a petty thief stealing my knees, my memory, and my ability to stay awake after 8pm.

It's time now to prepare. To practice some good things before DreyNagchung summons me to his court. I don't know what the dress code is there, but I suspect it's not casual.

As a matter of fact, we don't know when we're kicking our bucket. But kick the bucket we must. This is not news. Everyone knows we all die. Even your neighbor who thinks he'll live forever by drinking arra knows it—he just doesn't like to admit it.

To understand more about life and death, I have read books. A small sample:

· Thich Nhat Hanh's books (calming, like a cup of tea that also judges you)

· Wentz's The Tibetan Book of the Dead (spooky title, surprisingly practical)

· Sogyal Rinpoche's The Tibetan Book of Living & Dying (the sequel nobody asked for, but everyone needed)

· The Dalai Lama's book series (so many volumes, so little time before death)

· Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse's two books (short, sharp, and spiritually humiliating)

And other books of Buddhism. All these books are philosophies, theories, and stories. All of them teach us to be good, helpful, and altruistic. Wonderful advice. These things require practice. Lots of practice. And because of my legendary laxity—truly, I could win an award for procrastination—these theories have been remaining as theories. I am so weak at practicing every day that my meditation cushion has now been repurposed as a backrest for watching TV.

Today, I am almost done with The Way to a Meaningful Life by His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Like his other books, this one teaches the meaning of "I" and the realization of the meaning of the mind. I am a layman. A simple man. A man who still gets excited when the ara is warm. Understanding all this is hard. But as a human—a dying human—I feel it is very important to try.

Here are some extracts from the above-mentioned book. Brace yourself.

"When Buddha taught the four noble truths, first he identified true suffering, sources, cessations, and paths, and then said: Sufferings are to be recognized, but there is nothing to be recognized. The sources of suffering are to be abandoned, but there is nothing to be abandoned. Cessation is to be actualized, but there is nothing to be actualized. The path is to be meditated, but there is nothing to be meditated." (pg 156-157)

Read that again. Or don't. Either way, apparently, there's nothing to do. Which is convenient for lazy people like me.

His Holiness also talks about "form and emptiness," quoting the Heart Sutra:

"Form is emptiness, emptiness is form; form is not other than emptiness; emptiness is not other than form." (pg 164)

This has very deep meanings. So deep, in fact, that after reading it five times, I forgot what I had for breakfast. Which might also be emptiness.

And then there is this profound statement from Buddha about the nature of mind:

"In the mind, the mind is not to be found; the nature of the mind is clear light." (pg 171)

The Dalai Lama provides an explanation. Thank goodness. Because without it, I would have simply nodded, closed the book, and gone back to wondering why my phone charger never works.

Finally, there is a concise—truly, just 15 minutes—book called The Path to Dharma, published by the Commission for Religious Organizations, 2012, Bhutan. It's in both English and Dzongkha, which means you can be confused in two languages instead of one. The book discusses karmic cause and effect, different lives, virtuous and non-virtuous acts, and the nemesis of each act. It's worth knowing where we are going before we die. Even if that place, according to the Heart Sutra, might be nowhere at all.

So read, dear friend. Read while you can. Because one day, DreyNagchung will call your name, and you'll want to have at least pretended to understand emptiness.

Or not. Either way, there's nothing to be done.

100 Years are Still 100 Years Back

Humanity: Overconfident, Underpowered, and Doomed (Probably)

We humans can never know the nature of the world. Its mysteries. Its miracles. Its annoying habit of hiding Malaysian airplanes for months on end.

We can never defeat the mysterious nature. We can never truly understand it. And the fact is, we cannot change nature—its work, its fate, or its complete indifference to our feelings.

Everything is predestined and programmed like it should be, they say. Who is "they"? Nobody knows. But they sound very sure of themselves.

For example, a Malaysian airplane has been missing for months now. Months! And tracking it is "difficult." How satisfactorily equipped are we, really? What developed technologies do we have? Satellites? Radar? The entire internet? Apparently not enough. Because in the end, we will have to follow the law of nature. Everything—planes, dreams, our pride—succumbs to Mother Nature. She doesn't care about your flight radar. She never did.

Humans Think We're Moving Ahead

Oh yes. We are so advanced. Our sciences and technologies are conquering the world. Any day now.

After 100 or more years, there would be technology that could build a beautiful house when you press a button. Just one button. Poof. A villa. With a garden. Maybe even a garage.

Everyone would have wings to fly. Not metaphorical wings. Actual, strap-on, carbon-fiber wings. Traffic jams? Gone. Fear of heights? Still there, but now with more screaming.

Everyone would have robots to work. Cook, clean, file taxes, pretend to listen to your problems. People would become so lazy that they would be resentful of switching a button. A button! The very thing that gave them everything. 

ETC. (The "ETC" here carries the weight of all our delusions.)

But Here's the Plot Twist

These 100 years are still 100 years backward.

For example, we cannot create another Earth. We cannot lengthen our life after 100 years or so. We cannot deny the fact that truth is truth. And we certainly cannot deny the almighty God—or Mother Nature, or whoever is currently in charge of cosmic reality.

Nature is so original. So stubbornly, annoyingly original. We humans merely duplicate what was already there. We see a bird, we make a plane. We see a fish, we make a submarine. We see a tree, we make... paper. Then we complain that the paper isn't as strong as the tree.

We try to change that original natural thing, which in turn destroys us. The pure gold is stained and tarnished. By us. With our own greedy, restless, button-pressing hands.

The Real Problem

I think we are making ourselves complicated because we are not able to understand the basic nature of nature. It's simple, really. But we hate simple. Simple doesn't sell. Simple doesn't get likes. Simple doesn't require a 500-page manual with a missing page 47.

One thing we must understand: we cannot go beyond the will of anyone—be it person, nature, or God.

And that, dear reader, is the punchline nobody wants to hear.

We are doomed.

Not with a bang. Not with a dramatic movie explosion. But slowly. Lazily. While resenting the button we have to press. While searching for a plane that vanished. While building wings we cannot fly.

Doomed.

But hey, at least we have robots. Eventually. Maybe. If nature allows.

True Faith and Love for God

People have all kinds of ideas about religion. Some think heaven is up there, hell is down there, and God is… somewhere over the rainbow. Beliefs vary. Faith in gods fluctuates more than wondering minds.

But here's what I think: you don't need to worship idols, chant verses you don't understand,  speak eloquently, or even look good. All you need is confidence in God's power and will. Just faithfulness. That's it. Simple, right?

Sometimes God brings tragedy. Sometimes deliverance. Mostly, though, He brings confusion. And silence. And a lot of waiting around wondering.

People complain, "God punished me even though I believed!" They say, He doesn't watch every little detail of our lives.  I think He’s definitely watching. The real problem is man's magnification of himself—we just don't see our own hearts. We blame God for the mess.

God's grace is always sufficient. He's not in some distant, unknowable realm. He's in our heart. 

Now, let me tell you about my own turn of life. During my training, I had to go to a random unknown place for teaching practice. Thanks to faith (or sheer luck dressed in piety), I met my life partner there. A blessing in disguise. I asked God for a reason. The reason He gave was beyond my imagination—mostly because He didn't give one. But the point is: God gives everything, often at crossroads, with a milestone effect. I asked for a blessing. I got a wife. Fair trade. 

The basic principle of all religions is the same: Dharma—the law of the self. So I respect all religions. I hate none. Habits change, rituals differ, and some religious outfits are seriously uncomfortable. But no religion sustains forever. That's why the guiding principle—Dharma—applies to all ages. 

What the world needs today is not dogmatic beliefs. Man can live without religion. But Dharma? That's essential. Self-awakening? Even more so. If a person lives without selfishness, they can become divine—or at least tolerable at times,

We want higher consciousness. Prayer helps. The power of prayer is supreme. It leads the world. It saves us from calamities and chaos. Prayer without common sense is just wishful thinking with extra steps.

Love is the basis for prayer. Prayer expands your canvas. Religion, at its best, teaches us to become conscious, good, and compassionate humans. 

The seeds and deeds of religion are souls. Outward worship is just conceited theater when there's no inner transformation. You can fold your hands all day, but if your heart is still a mess, you're basically a beautifully wrapped box of nothing. 

A Wise Tree-Jangchub Shing

Do you watch a program called Jangchub Shing hosted by Mr. Karma Dendup every Thursday on BBS 2? If you don't, you should. If you can't, I pity your Thursday evenings. This program is of immense benefit to us viewers—and by "immense benefit," I mean it gives us something better to do than scrolling through Facebook and arguing about whether instant noodles are ruining our culture.

I personally take out time to watch the show. That's right. I could be doing anything else—sleeping, eating, staring at a wall—but I choose Jangchub Shing. I would like to sincerely thank Mr. Karma Dendup for this show. He asks rebellious questions. Real-world questions. The kind that make monks choke on their butter tea. Kudos to him for awakening us to the basics of the Buddhist religion—things we should have learned but were probably too busy memorizing pop song lyrics.

Thanks to him, I learned something important: there is a vast difference between religion and spirituality. Religion, let's be honest, often leads to egotism. ("I pray more than you, so I'm holier.") Spirituality, on the other hand, leads more often to humility. ("I know nothing, and that's fine.") One makes you wear a bigger crown; the other makes you take it off. Now, out of my own unawareness—or perhaps my stubborn interest—I asked him two layman questions last time. Layman questions, meaning the kind that make scholars sweat and Rinpoches suddenly remember an urgent appointment. I requested that he ask these questions for better illumination. He said he would. I'm holding my breath. It's turning purple.

The only path to spiritual enlightenment, as I understand it, is understanding and grasping one's own mind. We can attain this through constant meditation and mental contemplation—called gom in Dzongkha. In other words, it's basically knowing your soul. But here's the catch: what is the soul? Shape? Round like a momo? Flat like a pancake? Colour? Blue? Invisible? Size? As big as a watermelon? As small as a lentil? Empty? Full? Half-full like my optimism on a Monday morning? To attain the level of full realization—knowing the soul—is said to be the highest level. That's when you can be born into nirvana. Wonderful. But the process of identifying the nature of the soul—whether it's empty or not, whether it dies or not—is where things get slippery.

The concrete meaning of the soul and its whereabouts is surprisingly difficult to get from any Rinpoche. They say it's a secret. A kind of "cannot share." A "not allowed to reveal." Which makes me wonder: if religion is for the benefit of all sentient beings, and if Rinpoches, Lamas, and sages are supposed to liberate all sentient beings, why do our saviors say it's so difficult to get this information? Why can't it be shared easily? Why can't it be shown—just shown once—so that we all become Buddha-nature and finally liberate ourselves from suffering? Is the soul hiding? Is it shy? Does it have social anxiety? I'm not asking for a full biography. Just a rough sketch. A hint. A breadcrumb.

My favorite Buddhist Parables

Many teachings of Buddhism is taught and told in short and delightful parables. They are usually designed to develop the mind and to free it from distortions and so to connect with our spirit.

Many of them are really inspiring and enlightening. It is helpful to the mind to think about them and feel the deeper meaning. Even if it is not possible to grasp them fully, the beauty and simplicity of the message usually get through to us one way or the other.

Some parables are a selection of the ones I found most inspiring and really worth pondering about. Some may be instantly understood, some others need to be thought through and recognized in oneself. We must always keep in mind two crucial principles: the Buddha Mind and serious practice. Without practice, and without the determination to achieve Buddha-hood for the benefit of all sentient beings (Bodhi Mind), parables merely feed the intellect and may become, in the words of D.T. Suzuki, "mere bubbles." 

1.       The Moving Flag

Two Buddhists monks were arguing about a flag flapping in the wind.

"It's the wind that is really moving," stated the first one.

"No, it is the flag that is moving," contended the second.

A third interrupted them. "Neither the flag nor the wind is moving," he said, "It is MIND that is moving."

2.       Goddess of Wealth / Goddess of Poverty

Once a beautiful and well-dressed woman visited a house. The master of the house asked her who she was and she replied that she was the goddess of wealth. The master of the house was delighted and so greeted her with open arms. Soon after another woman appeared who was ugly looking and poorly dressed. The master asked who she was and the woman replied that she was the goddess of poverty. The master was frightened and tried to drive her out of the house, but the woman refused to depart, saying, 'The goddess of wealth is my sister. There is an agreement between us that we are never to live apart; if you chase me out, she is to go with me.' Sure enough, as soon as the ugly woman went out, the other woman disappeared.

Birth goes with death. Fortune goes with misfortune. Bad things follow good things. Men should realize this. Foolish people dread misfortune and strive after good fortune, but those who seek Enlightenment must transcend both of them. (from The Teaching of the Buddha)

3.       A True Buddha

Three monks were drinking tea.

The Buddhist master asked the first monk, “What do you drink with your tea?”

The first monk replied, “I drink suffering, loneliness and make peace and happiness.”

The master nodded and exclaimed, “Oh, you are great, an enlightened one. You go now.”

The same question was asked to the second monk.

And the second monk replied, “I drink Buddha’s teaching, compassion and the Buddha himself with the tea.”

The master now fully satisfied with his explanation said, “You are a truly Buddha, an enlightened one. You too go.”

Then the master asked the third monk, “What do you drink with your tea?”

The third monk replied, “I picked out the fly from the tea cup and drink only tea.”

The master smiled and said, “You are the right person to sit in my place.”

And the master gave his sit to the third monk.

4.       The Buddha

There were two monks.

Younger is sitting in zazen.

Elder inquires, “Why are you sitting in zazen?”

Younger replies, “By sitting in zazen, I hope eventually to become a Buddha.”

Elder picks up a brick and begins rubbing it on a rock.

Younger laughs, “And what are you doing?”

Elder replies, “I am polishing this brick in hopes that eventually it will become a mirror.”

(The advanced story ends here, but for the rest of us it continues.)

Younger asks, “How can polishing a brick make a mirror?”

Elder retorts, “How can sitting in zazen make a Buddha!”

(And, true to the ancient formula, the younger monk instantly became a mirror.)