In 2014, I met the family of Ngödrub Dorje and his wife, Tashi Dolma, here in the Monterey Bay area where I live.
When I was living here in 2010, there happened to be three Tibetan women in the area, each born in a different place: Chözin, who was born in Nepal; Kunsang, a Tibetan woman born in Darjeeling, India; and Dorje Dolma, who was born in Tibet.
At that time, we worked together on many Dharma and community activities, including Tibetan Losar, the March 10 Uprising Day protest, and the birthday celebration of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Many Westerners would compliment us, saying, “Even though there are only four of you Tibetans, you accomplish a great deal!”
Unfortunately, Kunsang and Chözin were dependent upon whatever employment they could find. When work became unavailable, they reluctantly had to move elsewhere in search of work.
After that, only Dorje Dolma—whose husband was an American—and I remained. Because of our respective work, however, even the two of us gradually saw each other less frequently. Then, sadly, Acha Dorje Dolma suddenly passed away, without any apparent warning or known cause.
From that time onward, I was the only Tibetan living in this area.
Then one day my telephone rang. The caller turned out to be Tibetan. When we spoke, he said:
“Are you Khenpo Karten? My name is Tenzin Namkha. I moved to this area only a few months ago. I found information about the Manjushri Dharma Center and your telephone number on the internet. Would it be all right if I came to your Dharma activity tomorrow?”
When I heard someone speaking such clear, pure, and fluent Tibetan, I was as delighted as a peacock hearing the sound of thunder. With great happiness I replied, “Of course! Absolutely! Please come tomorrow.”
The following day, as arranged, a handsome young man with a long-shaped face arrived at our Dharma gathering carrying a bouquet of flowers decorated with silk khata.
As we talked, he explained in detail that his elder sister, Tashi Dolma, and her husband, Ngödrub Dorje, lived only about ten minutes away.
I believe it was on January 24, 2015, that I was invited to their home for dinner for the first time. My Japanese-American student, Susan, and I went together.
That was when I first met my friend Ngödrub Dorje. He was of medium build, with a somewhat dark, round face and bright white teeth. His face naturally carried an uncontrived, innate smile. I immediately saw him as a gentle, humble, and decent man.
His wife, Tashi Dolma, was a lovely and kind Tibetan woman, usually quiet in manner and always concerned for others. Ngödrub’s younger sister, Kunsang, was hardworking and diligent, as well as humble, kindhearted, and good-natured.
From then onward, without ever having to arrange it deliberately, all of us became like-minded friends.
There is a Tibetan saying:
“When neighbors live close together,
even the mice run back and forth between their homes.”
And so it was with us. We began seeing each other more and more frequently.
From that time onward, I felt extremely fortunate to have such a good Tibetan family living nearby. Eventually this family became like my own family. We shared one another’s happiness and difficulties and stood together in our common concerns. Whenever possible, we gathered together for the March 10 Tibetan Uprising Day, His Holiness’s birthday, Tibetan Losar, and other occasions.
Several years later, another Tibetan family originally from Amdo moved to an area near me. Naturally, they too became good neighbors and friends.
Sometimes when we gathered together, I would jokingly say:
“The Monterey Tibetan Association has three executive committee members—but no ordinary members! The three of us are both the officers and the members.”
In any case, as I see it, wherever Tibetans have been scattered by circumstances into foreign lands, it is extremely important that we live together according to three principles: a common purpose, a common direction, and a shared experience of happiness and hardship.
Ngödrub Dorje and I in particular became very close personal friends, and on many occasions we traveled around and went on outings together.
Moreover, Ngödrub Dorje had a strong interest in Buddhism. Whenever we met, he always had many questions for me about the Dharma.
Then, beginning around the time of the global pandemic, when people were required to remain isolated from one another, at Ngödrub Dorje’s request I gave him the transmission, instructions, and explanations for the Four Hundred-Thousand Preliminary Practices (Ngöndro) according to the Kagyu tradition.
Ngödrub was a person of great diligence and determination. Putting on, as it were, the armor of patience capable of enduring hardship for the sake of Dharma, he completed the entire set of preliminary practices: one hundred thousand prostrations, one hundred thousand mandala offerings, one hundred thousand recitations of the Hundred-Syllable Mantra, and one hundred thousand repetitions of Guru Yoga.
He completed all four hundred thousand practices successfully and without obstacles, and in a relatively short period of time. I was amazed by his diligence and strength of resolve.
From that point onward, our relationship was no longer merely that of close personal friends. In the Dharma, we also developed the profound bond of teacher and student.
In 2024, in Berkeley, California, Ngödrub served as sponsor and organizer for the first great Dechen Shingdrup Amitabha Pure Land practice gathering held there for Tibetans.
Ngödrub Dorje and his wife, Tashi Dolma, are a Tibetan family of fine character and conduct. I cannot count how many times I have eaten momos and other Tibetan food in their home.
Sadly, although both of Ngödrub Dorje’s parents had been staying in New York at the home of Ngödrub’s elder sister, his elderly father had suffered from illness for a long time. On September 13, 2026, he passed away in a hospital in New York.
Immediately afterward, my friend Ngödrub called me from the hospital.
At his request, although I myself do not possess the great compassion, blessings, or powers that could propel his father’s consciousness directly into a Pure Land, nor the ability instantly to liberate the deceased from the sufferings of the bardo, I nevertheless did whatever was within my ability and knowledge for his late father, including phowa performed from afar, prayers, and dedications of merit.
More importantly, I also made arrangements and offerings requesting prayers and dedications at many monasteries in Tibet.
For my own part, until the completion of the 49-day period following his death, I am also continuing without interruption to add special daily practices to my regular prayers, including Avalokiteshvara and the ritual practice of Amitabha Buddha.
In general, because of the karmic circumstances that bring us together, I attach great importance to the bonds I have with those who rely upon me and place their trust in me—whether they are members of the same family, students in the Dharma, or friends in ordinary worldly life.
I deeply value the affection between brothers and sisters, the samaya of Dharma relationships, and remaining a true friend to the very end.
Therefore, concerning the passing of my friend Ngödrub’s father, my sympathy is not merely something expressed with the mouth or in words.
Having myself truly been orphaned through losing both of my parents long ago, from the depths of my heart I share in your grief and sorrow.
As it is taught in Shantideva’s Bodhicaryavatara (The Way of the Bodhisattva):
“We are born alone,
and likewise we die alone.
Since no one else can take upon themselves
our share of suffering,
what use are friends who obstruct the path?”
In particular, we should bring deeply to mind the very nature of samsara and its suffering:
The end of birth is death.
The end of coming together is separation.
One day, whether we wish it or not, we ourselves will certainly have to travel this same road.
Therefore, my friend Ngödrub Dorje, I urge you from this very moment onward to remember that at the time of death there is ultimately no refuge other than the sacred Dharma.
The greatest kindness we can show ourselves is therefore to devote ourselves to the genuine Dharma.
Please do not forget this.
I offer these words simply as an exhortation, adorned by the loyalty of friendship and by the sacred bond of samaya between teacher and student.
No comments:
Post a Comment