A holy Cave-Dweller.
“_Gelong lobzang gonpo la kyabs su chio._” This is, as I was told and
as I observed myself, what the followers of the dweller in the white
cave--and that included natives living within a hundred-mile radius
of the cliff--said three times, accompanied by as many bowings in
the direction of the cave, every night before going to bed, and it
means: “I take my refuge in the Gelong, named noble-minded Savior.”
This shows in what high esteem the holy man to whom I was about to be
introduced was held by the local people. There had now gathered about
twenty people in front of the grey cave, waiting to be taken to the
white one. During my stay I noticed that a similar scene took place
every morning, the visitors passing the night before in their tents,
pitched at the foot of the mountain, on the top of which the caves are
situated. Outside the hours I mentioned before, the Lama was under no
circumstance whatever to be seen.
Shortly before noon I walked up to the white cave, together with the
waiting crowd. I found the entrance to the cave barred by a fence and
a closed gate. Soon after, a grey-haired old priest, of seventy years
of age, made his appearance, and, unlocking the gate, walked out to
where were the expectant devotees, each of whom gave an offering or
offerings, either of money or in kind, as his or her turn came to
receive _maṇi_. The _maṇi_ is a formula pronounced by the aged Lama,
who spoke the sacred words: “_Om maṇi padme hum_,” the recipient
repeating them. The _maṇi_ came after a brief sermon. Then followed the
imparting by the Lama of various instructive precepts to the audience;
but just previous to that, each person individually went up to a table,
on the other side of which sat their venerable teacher. After three
bows, they proceeded with bent body and the tongue stuck out--the mark
of profound obeisance--and, stopping in front of the table, held their
heads close to the Lama. The latter, with the palm of his right hand,
gently touched their heads by way of blessing, in acknowledgment of
their courtesy. In the case of an individual of social position, the
Lama used both hands in administering the blessing. I may explain here
the Tibetan mode of blessing. Tibetan Lamas use four kinds of blessing,
according to the rank of the person to whom it is administered. These
orders of blessing, which are at the same time those of greeting, which
they call _chakwang_ in Tibet, are first the ‘head to head blessing,’
which consists in touching the other’s head with one’s own forehead;
second the ‘double-handed blessing;’ third, the ‘single-handed
blessing;’ both of which are self-explanatory. The fourth is resorted
to by a Lama of the highest order toward his inferiors and laymen,
and consists in touching the head of the recipient with the tufted
end of a stick, which constitutes a special article used in Buḍḍhist
ritual. This last ceremony is performed only by the Dalai Lama in
Lhasa, and Paṇchen Rinpoche in Shigatse. Gelong Rinpoche received
me with the double-handed blessing. I found in him a stoutly built,
strikingly-featured, grey-haired old man of noble bearing, who,
because of his well-preserved physique, did not at first glance look
like a person who had passed the best part of his life in religious
meditation. But closer observation of what he did and said convinced me
that he was a man of true charity, dearly loving his fellow-creatures,
and I approached him with a feeling of profound respect. The first
thing he said to me was that I was not a man to wander about in a
dreary wilderness, and he asked me what had brought me to him. The
dialogue that then followed between Gelong Rinpoche and myself was
substantially as below:
“I am a travelling priest making a pilgrimage through different
countries in quest of Buḍḍhist truths. I have heard of your fame, and
have come to be taught one thing.”
“What can that be, friend?”
“You are saving the souls of the multitude, and I wish to learn the
grand secret which serves so well for your purpose.”
“Friend, you know that well enough yourself. All Buḍḍhism is in you,
and you have nothing to learn from me.”
“True, all Buḍḍhism is in the Self, but in ancient days Jenzai Dōji
travelled far and wide in search of fifty-three wise men, and we, the
Buḍḍhists, are all taught to derive lessons from the great hardships
then undergone by him. I am far from being a Jenzai Dōji, and yet I am
privileged to imitate him: it is thus that I have called on you.”
“Good! I have but one means to guide me in saving souls, and the ‘Grand
Gospel of Salvation’ is that guide of mine.”
“May I have the pleasure of seeing that Gospel?”
“Most certainly.” The Lama here went into his cave, and, fetching out a
volume, kindly lent it to me. On asking what was the gist of the Gospel
of Salvation, I was told that it resolved itself into teaching that the
three _yānas_ (vehicles) were but one _yāna_. I then withdrew and went
back to the grey cave, taking with me the borrowed volume, and I spent
the rest of the day in reading through the Gospel, which I found to
be a compilation, resembling in its tenets the _Hoke-kyo_--the _Sūṭra
Saḍḍharma Puṇdarīka_--and in some places it even read like extracts
from the last mentioned Gospel. The next day I turned cobbler, and
mended my boots. On the morning following, I revisited Gelong Rinpoche
and returned the Gospel. In so doing, the Lama and I had quite an
argument, which, in short, was an exchange of views, based on the
Tibetan school of Buḍḍhism on the part of the Lama, and on Japanese and
Chinese schools on mine.
On the 7th of July I made a parting call on the holy dweller of
the white cliff, when the good man presented me with considerable
quantities of baked flour, butter, and raisins, saying that without a
full and good supply of them I might die on the journey. This was all
very nice, but it increased my load by twenty pounds, an addition which
always counts a great deal to a solitary peddler, going a long distance
over difficult roads, as I was to do. Back in the grey cave, I once
more set myself to repairing my boots, but the work was new to me, and
I was more successful in sticking the needle into my finger than in
progressing with the job. The upshot was that the occupant of the cave,
taking pity on me, kindly did the greater part of the work for me.
Early on the 8th I bade good-bye to the kind-hearted disciple of Gelong
Rinpoche, and relaunched myself on my journey, with eighty-five solid
pounds on my back, which in no time began to ache under the weight.