I don’t know what I will be called in my next life. I actually don’t know if I will be reborn in a sphere where there is such a thing as a name. Do beetles have names? Probably my current name Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse will be given to a child of an ambitious, influential human being or a manipulative relative. And I will die in the tea of the child who gets that name.

When I was young, my nickname was “Lepo,” which means idiot. In Bhutan, most people don’t mind being called idiot, or fatty, or rice ball, or disrobed monk, or frying pan. In fact when Bhutan finally had to bow down and conform to the global phenomena of census taking and ID cards, many people ended up putting their nicknames on their passports. So now I have a khenpo at my monastery whose passport says “Yongba,” which is another way to say idiot. Surnames rarely exist in Tibetan and Bhutanese, let alone maiden names.

Every monk is given a beautiful name at their ordination or refuge ceremony, which is rarely used. In the early days, when I was trying to build my own monastic school in Bir, I had a handful of monks working there. Whenever we addressed the monks with their Dharma names, like “Holder of the Lamp” or “Victory Banner,” no one would respond. The only way to get their attention was to say, “Helicopter!” or “Salt Sack!” and they’d come right over.

Then there is another set of names that people don’t even know they have. Monks at shedra secretly call their lopons and khenpos by all kinds of made up nicknames behind their backs. For instance the abbot of Dzongsar Shedra, Khenpo Kunga Wangchuk, who was this great, serene, practitioner, so dedicated to the Dharma, but some of the monks secretly referred to him as “Gabbar Singh,” who was a sadistic villain from a 1970s Bollywood film, I guess because they were afraid of him.

My sisters and brothers all had nicknames. My older sister Kelsang Choden was called “Lemmo” which means female idiot, but it wasn’t an insult because she has always been very smart and refined. She attended St Helen’s School, a Christian school in Karshiang, West Bengal, and we younger kids always eagerly awaited her return during the holidays because she would read to us from these small English books. My introduction to Little Red Riding Hood was through her. The stories and drawings from the west were so powerful. I could listen to Little Red Riding Hood again and again and again and never get bored, then I would lay awake at night, afraid of the wolf.

My younger sister, Yeshe Pelzom, was called “Baktangmo,” which means something like “the fat one” because she was a bit round when she was young. The image of chubby, stubborn Yeshe Pelzom with her dark purple chuba is strongly imprinted in my mind to this day. In the brief time that I spent at home with my family, I felt very protective of her. Of course she is now not at all round but she’s still a little stubborn; stubbornness is a trademark of the children of Thinley Norbu, who was known by his peers as the embodiment of stubbornness.

My younger brother Garab Dorji was named “Meme Garab,” which means old man Garab. I don’t really remember why he was called that. My younger brother Jampal Dorji was called “Gangongla” which means the pebble. The image of him drooling when he spoke as a child and still drooling today will never leave my head. My youngest sister Pema Chökyi was called “Niyamo,” which means mouse. And finally my youngest brother Ugyen Namgay was called “Taila” which means beans. Unfortunately I have almost no memory of either of these youngest two because by the time they came along, I was long gone.

Popularly and sometimes officially, I am called Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse, but it is a somewhat general name, it’s not personal to me. Dzongsar is a place, like Nashville, and Jamyang Khyentse was Jamyang Khyentse Wangpo’s own name. Later, when he reincarnated, it got passed along to all his incarnations and since I happened to be one of them, I got this name.

When my parents brought me as a baby to my father’s father, Dudjom Rinpoche, he gave me the name Khyentse Norbu, which is the only name my father ever called me. I think Dudjom Rinpoche was trying to give all his descendants the name Norbu: Thinley Norbu, Shenphen Norbu, Pende Norbu, and then me. But when I was growing up with my grandparents in eastern Bhutan, some people called me “Lama Daza,” which means little lama. And a few others called me Dungse Rinpoche, which is how one calls a family lineage holder, such as my father, Dungse Thinley Norbu Rinpoche, i.e. son of Dudjom Rinpoche.

Then, when I was enthroned in Sikkim, Sakya Trizin sent a red cloth with “Jamyang Thubthen Chökyi Gyatso” painted on it above a lotus, sun, and moon disk supported by two lions. The 16th Karmapa also bestowed a name on me: Tsangpa Lhayi Metok, which means “flower of heaven.” Later, I went to the Dalai Lama for blessing, as is customary, and he gave me the name Shenpen Chökyi Nangwa which means “projection of Dharma that benefits others.” But most of the time, my tutors and other lamas referred to me as Yangsi Rinpoche, which means “the reincarnated one.” Some of the older lamas like Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche, still call me Yangsi. When I was a young boy receiving teachings from Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, I learned that the other young tulkus sometimes called me “Trimthar” which means “above the law” because Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche never used to scold me, not even raised his voice, never a harsh word, not even a disapproving vibe, no matter what trouble I got into. I think there is a perception that no one else could get away with the things I did. Later, when I worked on the set of Little Buddha with Bernardo Bertolucci, the Italian crew had a difficult time pronouncing my name so they decided to call me “Piccolo Padre”, which I think means “little father.” And because of some mischievous Singaporean and Malaysians, some people now call me “Boss” behind my back.

Imagine the difficulties I had when it was time for me to start traveling the world and I finally had to apply for a phenomenon called passport.