{"id":2060,"date":"2016-12-05T08:26:18","date_gmt":"2016-12-05T08:26:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/mugwortborn.wpengine.com\/project\/episode-seven-loss-of-innocence\/"},"modified":"2025-11-11T18:32:19","modified_gmt":"2025-11-11T18:32:19","slug":"episode-seven-loss-of-innocence","status":"publish","type":"project","link":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/project\/episode-seven-loss-of-innocence\/","title":{"rendered":"EPISODIO SIETE: La P\u00e9rdida de la Inocencia"},"content":{"rendered":"

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\"55f663868ac8aa6571ef87df9283cc77\"Durante mi infancia en el este de But\u00e1n, hab\u00eda falos a la vista por todas partes. Incluso en nuestra casa, pod\u00edas encontrar falos tallados en los pomos de las puertas, adornando los cucharones de sopa y en las barandillas. Estaban pintados en las paredes, por dentro y por fuera, en diferentes tama\u00f1os y formas. Hab\u00eda tantos que incluso nadie los notaba. Ni\u00f1os y ni\u00f1as, hermanos y hermanas, monjes y monjas, charlaban delante de estos s\u00edmbolos y pinturas f\u00e1licas.<\/p>\n

A los butaneses tambi\u00e9n les gustaba hacer falos y vaginas con masa; este puede que sea el \u00fanico arte que he dominado. Admito que he hecho incontables \u00f3rganos sexuales con chicle y los he pegado debajo de la mesa de innumerables restaurantes por todo el mundo. No eran solo s\u00edmbolos, las esculturas y las pinturas. Toda la actitud referente al sexo era mucho m\u00e1s abierta en donde crec\u00ed. El coqueteo extravagante no se consideraba moralmente malsano como en otras sociedades. Una mujer que invitaba a un hombre a la cama era tan normal como invitarlo a tomar el t\u00e9. M\u00e1s tarde me di cuenta de que la sociedad \u00abcivilizada\u00bb pod\u00eda encontrar este comportamiento b\u00e1rbaro, primitivo y retr\u00f3grado.<\/p>\n

Con el tiempo, yo mismo empec\u00e9 a pensar de esta manera limitada. Despu\u00e9s de que me nombraran como tulku, era normal que las se\u00f1oras se acercaran a m\u00ed y se abrieran la camisa para mostrarme sus pechos desnudos para que pudiera soplar sobre ellos, porque cre\u00edan que les aliviar\u00eda su dolor. A\u00f1os m\u00e1s tarde, cuando regres\u00e9 al este de But\u00e1n y estas mujeres vinieron con sus camisas abiertas, me encontr\u00e9 a m\u00ed mismo incapaz de mirarlas. Pero al cabo de unos d\u00edas, mi vieja qu\u00edmica de la infancia se estableci\u00f3 y una vez m\u00e1s me sent\u00ed c\u00f3modo, la mente cr\u00edtica que consideraba estas acciones primitivas se call\u00f3.<\/p>\n

Para bien o para mal, la p\u00e9rdida de la inocencia, si tal cosa existe, es inevitable. La inocencia pierde su pureza entre las aguas turbias de la educaci\u00f3n y del cuidado personal, lo cual conduce a la hipocres\u00eda. Esa es mi experiencia en mi vida personal.<\/p>\n

Las cosas para m\u00ed dieron un giro de 180 grados cuando entr\u00e9 al reino \u00abm\u00e1s sofisticado\u00bb, \u00abdecente\u00bb y \u00abculto\u00bb de los tibetanos, viviendo en labrangs [residencia de un lama] rodeado de monjes, rinpoch\u00e9s, khenpos, tulkus, etc. Como muchos j\u00f3venes rinpoch\u00e9s, me cri\u00e9 en compa\u00f1\u00eda de c\u00e9libes en su mayor\u00eda. Apenas pasaba un d\u00eda sin que mis tutores, que en su mayor\u00eda eran monjes ordenados, pintaran a las mujeres como tentadoras, obst\u00e1culos en el camino. Dec\u00edan: si crees que las chicas son atractivas y hermosas, es solo porque se han lavado y arreglado. Si dejaran de cortarse las u\u00f1as durante una semana, todas parecer\u00edan brujas. Si no se lavaran los dientes, sus bocas oler\u00edan a otros orificios, si no se lavaran el pelo, les saldr\u00edan rastas. A\u00f1os m\u00e1s tarde, aprend\u00ed que esta actitud machista no tiene sus ra\u00edces en el Dharma, es un fen\u00f3meno mundano y cultural, especialmente en la cultura asi\u00e1tica, que ha sido a\u00f1adido sobre las ense\u00f1anzas del Vinaya.<\/p>\n

En p\u00fablico, mis tutores se comportaban como una esposa celosa, siempre controlando la direcci\u00f3n de mi mirada. Nunca se les pasaba por la cabeza dejarme a solas con una chica, especialmente si era de But\u00e1n u occidental, porque, en opini\u00f3n de los tibetanos, las chicas de But\u00e1n o de occidente eran promiscuas y peligrosas. Hab\u00eda tantos hippies en Nepal por aquel entonces que \u00aboccidental\u00bb empez\u00f3 a significar \u00abhippie\u00bb que empez\u00f3 a significar \u00abdrogadicto\u00bb y posiblemente tambi\u00e9n mentalmente inestable. Las muchachas occidentales no se encorvaban, ni escond\u00edan sus pechos o cubr\u00edan sus traseros como las tibetanas que lo escond\u00edan todo. Mis tutores no sab\u00edan qu\u00e9 hacer con esta exhibici\u00f3n. Si ve\u00edan a una mujer occidental usando pantalones vaqueros que ni siquiera estaban tan ajustados, hac\u00edan sonidos tsk tsk de desaprobaci\u00f3n y me miraban con mayor vigilancia.<\/p>\n

No parec\u00edan tener ni idea de que su vigilancia de 24 horas no estaba deteniendo mi curiosidad, de hecho, tuvo el efecto contrario. Pero yo era tan buen farsante, lo que los llev\u00f3 a pensar que no estaba interesado, como cuando fing\u00ed que no me gustaban las pel\u00edculas.\u00a0Afortunadamente, mis tutores confiaban en Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoch\u00e9. En el momento que estaba a su cuidado, dejaban de vigilarme, con la seguridad de que estaba en buenas manos. Poco sab\u00edan que tan pronto como se iban Rinpoch\u00e9 empezaba a preguntarme si alguna chica hermosa me hab\u00eda llamado la atenci\u00f3n. S\u00f3lo recientemente me di cuenta de que la franqueza y la confianza de Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoch\u00e9 era uno de los m\u00e9todos m\u00e1s h\u00e1biles para entrenar a seres salvajes como yo. De lo contrario, podr\u00eda haber dominado el arte de la simulaci\u00f3n. Fingiendo ser sereno, puro, virginal, inocente, casto, mientras por dentro ard\u00eda de deseo, volvi\u00e9ndome loco alternando entre el acto de pureza y la batalla interior por reprimir mis erupciones hormonales.<\/p>\n

Debo decir que la disciplina falsa tiene algo de valor. Con el paso del tiempo, si eres bueno fingiendo ser puro, te vuelves m\u00e1s maduro y llegas a tener una actitud indiferente, lo cual es bueno; los objetos sexuales pasan a formar parte del entorno natural. Conozco personalmente a algunos rinpoch\u00e9s que estuvieron bajo mucho escrutinio cuando crecimos juntos, siempre bajo la atenta mirada de sus tutores. Estos tulkus, al igual que yo, aprendieron a fingir la pureza, aunque a veces me confiaban sus fantas\u00edas y deseos. Han pasado los a\u00f1os y ahora se han convertido en practicantes disciplinados, por lo que ya no necesitan fingir. As\u00ed que no se puede descartar todo el proceso de vigilancia y falsificaci\u00f3n.\u00a0Mientras tanto, no fingir, simplemente ser directo y abierto sobre tus preferencias y deseos todo el tiempo, puede malcriar a una persona. Hay una falta de responsabilidad y este tipo de comportamiento puede hacer que otros pierdan la inspiraci\u00f3n.<\/p>\n

Por otro lado, fingir fuera de control puede llevar a uno a perder el contacto con la cualidad genuina fundamental del ser humano. Puede crear inseguridad y acabas pensando que los dem\u00e1s tampoco son genuinos. Si est\u00e1s fingiendo, crees que probablemente los dem\u00e1s est\u00e1n fingiendo. Te vuelves orgulloso y pretencioso, todo es un espect\u00e1culo, incluso para ti mismo. Creo que los maestros que no son h\u00e1biles guiando moral y \u00e9ticamente a un estudiante, que insisten en la pureza, terminan creando demonios de hipocres\u00eda.<\/p>\n

\"Kyabje

Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoch\u00e9 con Ugyen Shenpen.<\/p><\/div>\n

Cuando ten\u00eda unos siete a\u00f1os, fui al gran monasterio de Rumtek en Sikkim, la sede del 16\u00ba Karmapa, para recibir las ense\u00f1anzas e iniciaciones completas de Shangpa Kagyu dadas por Kalu Rinpoch\u00e9. Me acompa\u00f1aron mi tutor Ugyen Shenpen y Sonam Tashi. Casi todos los tulkus conocidos del linaje Karma Kagyu estaban all\u00ed, incluidos Shamar Rinpoch\u00e9, Situ Rinpoch\u00e9 y Jamgon Kongtrul Rinpoch\u00e9.<\/p>\n

Durante esa ense\u00f1anza e iniciaci\u00f3n en particular, dada por Kalu Rinpoch\u00e9, dos cosas me dejaron una gran impresi\u00f3n. En raras ocasiones, el Karmapa se asomaba por el balc\u00f3n y nos miraba a trav\u00e9s del cristal. Siempre fue tan imponente y majestuoso y al mismo tiempo muy intimidante. Daba alegr\u00eda verlo, pero tambi\u00e9n era tan aterrador. Si yo detectaba el m\u00e1s m\u00ednimo movimiento, miraba a ese lugar con la esperanza de que fuese \u00e9l.<\/p>\n

La otra gran impresi\u00f3n fue de una mujer que probablemente era mayor que mi madre. Ella fue mi primer flechazo. Siendo un ser humano que ha estado bajo el control de innumerables vidas de h\u00e1bitos, atascado con dieciocho dhatus<\/em> [conjuntos de elementos] y doce ay<\/em>atanas <\/em>[or\u00edgenes de la consciencia], mi deseo era insalvable. El objeto de mi flechazo result\u00f3 ser la madre de uno de los j\u00f3venes rinpoch\u00e9s m\u00e1s amables, por lo que era una situaci\u00f3n delicada.\u00a0Ella estaba asistiendo a las ense\u00f1anzas con su marido. Si tuviera que clasificar las emociones (ignorancia, deseo, ira, orgullo), clasificar\u00eda a los celos y al orgullo como los m\u00e1s bajos. Decir que los celos no tienen sentido, es decirlo suavemente. Pero imag\u00ednate, un ni\u00f1o de siete a\u00f1os, celoso del marido de una mujer mayor que su madre. Ni siquiera le hab\u00eda hablado. Estoy seguro de que deb\u00ed haberla mirado con una emoci\u00f3n delatadora, pero como yo era tan s\u00f3lo un ni\u00f1o, para ella era solo un ni\u00f1o con ojos grandes. Estaba tan enamorado de ella que por la noche no pod\u00eda dormir. Durante horas, mientras todos dorm\u00edan, me quedaba all\u00ed tumbado imaginando todas las cosas que pod\u00eda hacer con ella, nada sexual, sino matrimonio, caminar por las monta\u00f1as nevadas, viajar en autobuses de dos pisos y poner un capullo de rosa en su o\u00eddo, todas estas escenas hac\u00edan referencia a fotograf\u00edas de pel\u00edculas de Bollywood. Si escuchaba una canci\u00f3n de Bollywood, me imaginaba que \u00e9ramos nosotros los que cant\u00e1bamos. A\u00f1os m\u00e1s tarde, cuando fui a Londres, Nedup Dorjee me llev\u00f3 a un tour por Londres en un autob\u00fas de dos pisos y al recordar esos d\u00edas de Rumtek me sent\u00ed muy avergonzado.<\/p>\n

\"Photo

\u00a0Foto de Sharukh Khan and Preity Zinta. Para la pel\u00edcula de Bollywood Veer-Zaara.<\/p><\/div>\n

Pero cuando ten\u00eda 16 a\u00f1os, fue una historia diferente. Una vez m\u00e1s, mi encuentro con una dama no fue en la cafeter\u00eda de un instituto o en un bar s\u00f3rdido, sino en un encuentro de Dharma. Esta vez el foco de mi atenci\u00f3n fue una mujer francesa pelirroja de unos cuarenta a\u00f1os. Ella hab\u00eda venido desde Par\u00eds para recibir ense\u00f1anzas de Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoch\u00e9 en Nepal y todos los d\u00edas llevaba puesto algo diferente. A veces llevaba puestas faldas hasta la rodilla. No estaba acostumbrada a sentarse con las piernas cruzadas, as\u00ed que cruzaba y descruzaba las piernas constantemente y si miraba en el momento adecuado pod\u00eda verle las piernas y sus medias. Ten\u00eda tantos tipos diferentes de medias, de red y de seda. Mi encaprichamiento con ella se basaba principalmente en su estilo. Se podr\u00eda decir que esa fue mi introducci\u00f3n a la moda francesa. No me di cuenta de que era algo franc\u00e9s: el l\u00e1piz labial, la sombra de ojos y los pa\u00f1uelos. Tambi\u00e9n su acento franc\u00e9s sonaba bien a mis o\u00eddos. Siempre se notaba que hab\u00eda llegado por su distintivo perfume. No me di cuenta de que era seductor porque no sab\u00eda qu\u00e9 era la seducci\u00f3n.<\/p>\n

Me acuerdo de todo esto, pero no recuerdo su nombre, puede que incluso ya haya muerto. Los d\u00edas que ella no ven\u00eda a las ense\u00f1anzas, me encontraba busc\u00e1ndola pero ten\u00eda que tener cuidado. No solo ten\u00eda mis propios asistentes observ\u00e1ndome, hab\u00eda muchos otros j\u00f3venes rinpoch\u00e9s que siempre estaban atentos. Pero gracias a que mi lugar en la habitaci\u00f3n estaba cerca de una ventana, pod\u00eda ver su reflejo sin mirarla directamente. Sin embargo, ella debi\u00f3 haber notado que le estaba prestando atenci\u00f3n.<\/p>\n

\"lady\"<\/p>\n

Solo se lo cont\u00e9 a un amigo, cuyo nombre no puedo mencionar, y se sorprendi\u00f3 tanto de que encontrara sus pecas hermosas. Simplemente no pod\u00eda entender qu\u00e9 era lo que me gustaba de esa enfermedad de la piel. Solo pod\u00eda confiar en este amigo porque era muy comprensivo, de lo contrario, confesarle a la gente que me rodeaba que me interesaban las chicas, especialmente una chica pelirroja y con la cara pecosa, habr\u00eda sido como confesar que quer\u00eda unirme a un escuadr\u00f3n suicida. Ten\u00eda que mantenerlo absolutamente confidencial. Me vino bien que los tibetanos no pensaran que ella era hermosa en absoluto porque as\u00ed pod\u00eda fingir desinter\u00e9s f\u00e1cilmente. Realmente tuve que ocultar mis emociones y afortunadamente por aquel entonces me hab\u00eda convertido en un experto. El reto era aparentar ser un buen disciplinado rinpoch\u00e9 mientras organizaba interacciones de cualquier tipo con esta mujer pelirroja vestida con m\u00faltiples colores.<\/p>\n

\"freckles\"<\/p>\n

Fue un noviazgo muy interesante porque no habl\u00e1bamos el mismo idioma. Yo apenas hablaba ingl\u00e9s y ella tampoco lo hablaba mucho. Pod\u00eda decirle a mi s\u00e9quito que estaba con Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoch\u00e9 mientras trataba de tener una conversaci\u00f3n con ella, pero requer\u00eda de muchos trucos y mentiras. Las pocas veces que nos comunicamos \u2014 ella usando su ingl\u00e9s limitado y yo m\u00edmica y gestos de manos \u2014 tuve que interrumpir y salir corriendo sin explicaci\u00f3n. Realmente ten\u00eda que actuar r\u00e1pido. Ella debi\u00f3 haberse quedado tan perpleja. Desconociendo completamente mi situaci\u00f3n, me invitaba a su casa a tomar el t\u00e9 o a dar un paseo, lo que supongo que era como invitarme a una cita. Pero aceptar tal invitaci\u00f3n simplemente no era posible en absoluto. No pod\u00eda retirarme ni por una hora. Para m\u00ed, incluso tener una conversaci\u00f3n de 10 minutos era casi imposible. Incluso me invit\u00f3 a hacer senderismo con ella. Ella no entend\u00eda que el \u00fanico lugar al que pod\u00eda ir solo era al ba\u00f1o, de lo contrario, hab\u00eda asistentes, monjes o lamas siguiendo cada uno de mis movimientos. Y ni siquiera yo era un lama de alto rango. Imag\u00ednate por lo que estaban pasando los lamas de alto rango. Pero creo que poco a poco empezamos a entender las intenciones y situaciones del otro. Como era adulta, sab\u00eda c\u00f3mo reconocer a un enamorado y, como era de mente abierta, no trat\u00f3 de disuadirme.<\/p>\n

As\u00ed que una noche, muchos de nosotros fuimos invitados a una cena formal por el embajador franc\u00e9s o alguna organizaci\u00f3n francesa. No fue en la embajada, sino en un restaurante o tal vez una especie de club privado. Hab\u00eda mucha gente all\u00ed, incluida esta pelirroja. En lugar de ir a la cena, los otros tulkus se fueron todos al cine, as\u00ed que tuve que ir solo. Este evento estilo buffet fue una experiencia totalmente nueva para m\u00ed. La mayor\u00eda de nosotros fuimos atendidos al aire libre por chicos nepal\u00edes que sosten\u00edan bandejas de entremeses. La gente entraba y sal\u00eda. La mujer se acerc\u00f3 a m\u00ed, deb\u00eda estar un poco borracha pero yo ni siquiera sab\u00eda cu\u00e1les eran los signos del alcohol por aquel entonces. Ninguna chica tibetana o butanesa se habr\u00eda atrevido jam\u00e1s a acercarse a m\u00ed mientras beb\u00eda. Pero ahora que lo recuerdo, debi\u00f3 haberlo estado.<\/p>\n

\"garden-bench-surrounded-by-catmint-beautiful-high-impact-and-virtually-no-maintenance\"Nos sentamos juntos en un banco cerca de un gran seto. Todos los dem\u00e1s estaban ocupados socializando, yendo por bebidas y comida a las mesas del buffet, al otro lado del jard\u00edn a media luz, pero nosotros no nos levantamos. La ausencia de luz y de idioma debi\u00f3 habernos ayudado a comunicarnos porque ella tuvo que acercarse cada vez m\u00e1s a m\u00ed. Ella me mir\u00f3 m\u00e1s de lo que yo la mir\u00e9 a ella porque en el momento en que ella me miraba, ten\u00eda que apartar la mirada.<\/p>\n

De repente, ella cogi\u00f3 mi mano y se la puso debajo de su camisa. Me sorprendi\u00f3 este gesto inesperado y no sab\u00eda qu\u00e9 hacer para ocultar mis nervios. Mi instinto me dijo que quitara la mano y la oliera. Esto le hizo gracia, as\u00ed que tom\u00f3 mi mano, volvi\u00f3 a ponerla bajo su camisa y me dijo que lo hiciera de nuevo. Esa noche, cuando volv\u00ed a casa, todav\u00eda pod\u00eda sentir su crema facial en mi piel. En las ense\u00f1anzas del d\u00eda siguiente, todav\u00eda estaba ah\u00ed a pesar de que me hab\u00eda lavado bien la cara, y me sent\u00ed muy inc\u00f3modo y preocupado de que la gente se enterara. Pude oler su perfume en m\u00ed durante mucho tiempo.<\/p>\n

Como escribi\u00f3 Arundati Roy: \u00abEn esos primeros a\u00f1os amorfos cuando la memoria apenas se empieza a formar, cuando la vida estaba llena de comienzos y no finales, y todo era para siempre …\u00bb, comenzaron los fen\u00f3menos del enamoramiento y la necesidad de tener la existencia de otra persona.<\/p>\n

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Durante mi infancia en el este de But\u00e1n, hab\u00eda falos a la vista por todas partes. Incluso en nuestra casa, pod\u00edas encontrar falos tallados en los pomos de las puertas, adornando los cucharones de sopa y en las barandillas. Estaban pintados en las paredes, por dentro y por fuera, en diferentes tama\u00f1os y formas. Hab\u00eda […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":542,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"

Crush<\/p>

When I was growing up in East Bhutan, there were phalluses on display everywhere. Even in our home, you'd find phalluses carved into doorknobs, adorning soup ladles, and on banisters. They were painted on the walls, inside and outside, in different sizes and shapes. There were so many that no one even took notice. Boys and girls, brothers and sisters, monks and nuns, would have casual conversations right in front of these phallic symbols and paintings.
Bhutanese also liked to make phalluses and vaginas out of dough; this may be the one art that I have mastered. I admit I have made countless sex organs out of chewing gum and pasted them under the tables of countless restaurants around the world. It wasn't just symbols and carvings and paintings. The whole attitude around sex was much more open in this place where I grew up. Outrageous flirting was not considered unwholesome like in other societies. A woman inviting a man to spend time in bed together was as ordinary as inviting for tea. Only later did I realize that \"civilized\" society might find this behaviour barbaric, primitive, and backwards.
Eventually I myself started to think in this limited this way. After I was labeled as a tulku, it was common for ladies to come to me and open their shirts to expose their bare chests so I could blow on them, because they believe it would ease their pain. Years later, when I returned to East Bhutan and these ladies came with their open shirts, I found myself not being able to look at them. But after a few days, my old childhood chemistry set in and I once again was at ease, the judgmental mind that considered these actions primitive was quieted.
For better or worse, loss of innocence, if there is such a thing, is inevitable. Innocence loses its purity amidst the murkiness of education and grooming, which leads to hypocrisy. That has been my experience in my personal life.
Things changed for me 180 degrees when I entered the \"more sophisticated,\" \"decent,\" \"cultured\" realm of the Tibetans, living in labrangs surrounded by monks, rinpoches, khenpos, tulkus, and so on. Like many young Rinpoches, I was raised in the company of mostly celibates. Hardly a day went by without my tutors, who were mostly ordained monks, depicting women as temptresses, obstacles on the path. They would say: If you think girls are appealing and beautiful, it's just because they've washed and groomed themselves. If they stop clipping their nails for a week, they will all look like witches. If they don't brushed their teeth, their mouths will smell like other orifices, if they don't wash their hair, they will grow dreadlocks. Years later, I learned that this male chauvinistic attitude is not rooted in the Dharma, it is a worldly, cultural phenomenon, especially Asian culture, that has been lacquered with the teachings on the Vinaya.
In public, my tutors were like jealous wives, always checking the direction of my gaze. They would never dream of leaving me alone with a girl, especially if she was from Bhutan or the west, because, in the Tibetans' opinion, girls from Bhutan or the west were promiscuous and dangerous. There were so many hippies in Nepal at that time and \"westerner\" began to mean \"hippie\" which began to mean \"drug taker\" and possibly also mentally unstable. Western girls didn't hunch over, hiding their breasts and covering their behinds like the Tibetans who hid everything. My tutors didn't know what to do with this display. If they saw a western woman wearing jeans that weren't even that tight, they would make disapproving tsk tsk sounds and watch me with extra vigilance.
They didn't seem to have a clue that their 24-hour surveillance wasn't stopping my curiosity, in fact, it had the opposite effect. But I was such a good pretender, leading them to think I was uninterested, just like when I pretended I didn't like movies.
Fortunately, my tutors trusted Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche. The moment I was in his care, they would stop guarding me, resting assured I was in good hands. Little did they know, as soon as they left, Rinpoche would start asking me if any beautiful girls had caught my eye. Only recently did I realize Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche's openness and trust was one of the greatest skillful means to train wild beings like me. Otherwise I might have mastered the art of pretense. Pretending to be serene, pure, virginal, innocent, chaste, while inside burning with desire, going crazy alternating between the act of purity and the inner battle to suppress my hormonal eruptions.
I should say fake discipline has some value. After a while, if you are good at pretending to be pure, you become more mature and an indifferent attitude sets in, which is good; sexual objects become part of the natural environment. I personally know a few rinpoches who were under a lot of scrutiny when we were growing up together, always under the ever watchful eye of their tutors. These tulkus, just like myself, learned to act pure even though they sometimes confided to me about their fantasies and desires. Years have passed and now they have become disciplined practitioners, so they no longer need to pretend. So you can't just write off the whole process of surveillance and fakery.
Meanwhile, not pretending\u2014just being direct and open about your preferences and desires all the time\u2014can spoil a person. There is a lack of responsibility and this kind of behavior can cause others to lose inspiration.
On the other hand, out of control faking can lead one to lose touch with the fundamental genuine quality of being human. It can create insecurity, and you end up thinking others are also not genuine. If you are faking, you think others are probably faking. You become proud and pretentious, everything is a show, even to yourself. I think teachers who are not skillful in guiding a student morally and ethically, who insist on purity, end up creating demons of hypocrisy.
When I was about seven, I went to the grand Rumtek Monastery in Sikkim, the seat of the 16th Karmapa, to receive the complete Shangpa Kagyu teachings and initiations from Kalu Rinpoche. I was accompanied by my tutor Ugyen Shenpen (PHOTO WITH WIFE) and Sonam Tashi. Almost all the known Karma Kagyu tulkus were there, including Shamar Rinpoche, Situ Rinpoche, and Jamgon Kongtrul Rinpoche.
During that particular teaching and initiation from Kalu Rinpoche, two things left a big impression on me. On rare occasions, the Karmapa would come to the balcony and look down at us through the glass. He was always so magnificent and majestic and at the same time very intimidating. It was such a joy to see him but also so scary. If I detected even the smallest movement I would watch that spot with the hope that it would be him.
The other big impression was from a woman who was probably older than my mother. She was my first crush. Being a human who was under the control of countless lifetimes of habit, stuck with eighteen dhatus and twelve ayutanas, my infatuation was insurmountable. The object of my crush happened to be the mother of one of the kindest young Rinpoches, so it was a delicate situation.
She was attending the teachings with her husband. If I have to rank the emotions\u2014ignorance, desire, anger, pride\u2014I would rank jealousy and pride as the lowest. To say that jealousy has no point, is putting it mildly. But imagine, a boy of seven, jealous of a husband of a woman who is older than his mother. I had never even spoken to her. I am sure I must have looked at her with unveiled emotion, but because I was such a young boy, in her mind I was just a kid with big eyes. I was so infatuated with her that at night I couldn't sleep. For hours, while everyone slept, I laid there imagining all the things that I could do with her\u2014nothing sexual\u2014but marriage, walking in the snow mountains, riding double-decker buses and putting a rosebud in her ear, all these scenes I'd referenced from still photos of Bollywood films. If I heard a Bollywood song, I would imagine we were the ones singing. Years later when I went to London, Nedup Dorjee took me on a double-decker tour of London and thinking back on those Rumtek days made me so embarrassed.
But when I was 16 years old, it was a different story. Yet again my encounter with a lady wasn't in a high school cafeteria or a sleazy bar, but in a Dharma gathering. This time the focus of my attention was a red-headed French woman in her forties. She had come from Paris to receive teachings from Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche in Nepal, and every day she would wear something different. Sometimes she would wear knee length skirts. She wasn't used to sitting cross legged so she was always crossing and uncrossing her legs and if I glanced at the right moment I could see her legs and stockings. She had so many different kinds, fishnets and silky hose. My infatuation with her was mostly about her style. You could say it was my introduction to French fashion. I didn't realize it was a French thing\u2014the lipstick and eye shadow and scarves. Also her French accent sounded good to my ears. You could always tell she had arrived by her distinctive perfume. I didn't realize it was seductive because I didn't know what seduction was.
I remember all this but I don't remember her name, she might even be dead by now. On the days she didn't come to the teaching, I found myself looking for her but I had to be careful. Not only did I have my own attendants watching me, there were many other young Rinpoches who were ever watchful. But luckily, because of my position in the room near a window, I could see her reflection without looking directly at her. Nevertheless she must have noticed that I was paying attention to her.
I only confided in one friend, whose name I cannot mention, and he was so surprised that I found her freckles beautiful. He just couldn't understand what I liked about this skin disease. I could only confide in this one friend because he was very understanding, otherwise, confessing to people around me that I was interested girls, especially a girl with red hair and a freckled face, would be like confessing that I wanted to join a suicide bomb squad. It had to be kept absolutely confidential. It was good that the Tibetans didn't think she was beautiful at all because I could easily feign disinterest. I had to really conceal my emotions and luckily by then I had become a master at this. The challenge was to look like a good disciplined rinpoche while arranging interactions of any kind with this redheaded, multicolor dressed woman.
It was a most interesting courtship because there was no shared language between us. I hardly spoke English and she also spoke very little. I could tell my retinue that I was with Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche while I was trying to have a conversation with her but it required a lot of tricks and lies. The few times we communicated\u2014her using her limited English and me using mime and hand gestures\u2014I had to cut short and run off with no explanation. I really had to act quickly. She must have been so puzzled. Completely unaware of my situation, she would invite me to her house for tea or to go on walks, which I guess was kind of like asking me on a date. But accepting such an invitation was just not possible at all. I couldn't take leave for even an hour. For me, even to have a conversation for 10 minutes was almost impossible. She even invited me to go trekking with her. She didn't understand that the only place I was allowed to go alone was a toilet, otherwise there were either attendants, monks, or lamas following my every movement. And I wasn't even a high ranking lama. Imagine what the high ranked lamas were going through.
But I think we slowly began to understand each other's intentions and situations. Because she was an adult, she knew how to recognize a crush and because she was open minded, she didn't try to dissuade me.
So one night, many of us were invited for a formal dinner by the French ambassador or some French organization. It wasn't at the embassy, it was a restaurant or maybe some kind of private club. There were many people there, including this redhead. Instead of coming to the dinner, the other tulkus all went out to a movie so I had to go alone. This buffet style event was a totally new experience for me. Most of us were served outside by Nepali boys holding trays of hors d'oeuvres. People were roaming around in and out. The woman approached me, she must have been a little bit drunk but I didn't even know what the signs of alcohol were back then. No Tibetan or Bhutanese girl would ever have dared to approach me while drinking. But now that I think back, she must have been.
We sat together on a bench near a big hedge. Everyone was busy socializing, going for drinks and food at the buffet tables, on the other side of the dimly lit garden, but we didn't get up. The absence of light and language must have helped us to communicate because she had to she move closer and closer to me. She looked at me more than I looked her because the moment she looked at me, I had to look away.
Suddenly she took my hand and placed it down her shirt. I was shocked by this unexpected gesture, and I didn't know what to do to conceal my nerves. My instinct told me to remove my hand and sniff it. This amused her, so she took my hand and put it down her shirt again and told me to do it again. That night when I went back home I could still feel her face cream on my skin. At the teachings the next day, still it was there even though I had thoroughly washed my face, and I felt so uncomfortable and worried that people would find out. I could smell her perfume on me for so long.
As Arundati Roy wrote: \"In those early amorphous years when memory had only just begun, when life was full of beginnings and no ends, and everything was forever\u2026\" the phenomena of infatuation and the need to have someone else's existence, began.<\/p>","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"project_category":[32],"project_tag":[],"class_list":["post-2060","project","type-project","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","project_category-episodes-es"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/project\/2060","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/project"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/project"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2060"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/project\/2060\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/542"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2060"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"project_category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/project_category?post=2060"},{"taxonomy":"project_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/project_tag?post=2060"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}