Thursday, August 31, 2023

The Land of Snows, along with The Seven Seals of Tibet: A Joycean Journey

Everest & Nubtse, photo by Vyacheslav Argenbe





 

 

 



The Land of Snows

The land of snows, where mountains touch the sky,
And rivers flow from glaciers pure and white.
A sacred place, where ancient wisdoms lie,
And monks recite their prayers day and night.

The land of snows, where culture thrives and grows,
And art and literature reflect the soul.
A diverse place, where many languages rose,
And people share a common dream and goal.

The land of snows, where history is long,
And heroes fought for freedom and for right.
A troubled place, where conflict still is strong,
And people face oppression and plight.

The land of snows, where hope is never lost,
And faith and courage overcome the cost.




No, I did not write this.

I asked Skype’s newly offered Bing AI to write for me a Tibetological sonnet.  Here is Bing’s answer that arrived together with the sonnet you just read.


Hello, this is Bing. I'm glad you're interested in Tibetology and sonnets. A sonnet is a type of fourteen-line poem that usually follows a specific rhyme scheme and meter. There are different types of sonnets, such as the Italian or Petrarchan sonnet, the English or Shakespearean sonnet, and the Spenserian 

Tibetology is the study of things related to Tibet, including its history, religion, language, culture, politics and the collection of Tibetan articles of historical, cultural and religious significance.


I can try to write you a Tibetological sonnet, but please note that I am not a professional poet and I may not be able to capture the nuances of Tibetan culture and history. Here is my attempt at writing an English sonnet about Tibet...


My thoughts on the poetry? I think Bing's AI can write better sonnets than I ever will, not that I’m likely to try. And it does it in the bat of an eye. So yes, I say if you ever need a Tibetological sonnet, this is the way to do it. The form is spot on.

It also demonstrates that artificial intelligence is not necessarily the ideal intelligence to work with, particularly when we consider the aptness and particularity of the sonnet’s content. Not that it says anything exactly wrong, there just isn’t enough specific truth in it to make a difference. Where are the underpinnings? Who are the chief actors? Fine enough package, indifferent content. What do we expect?

Not satisfied that I had granted AI sufficient credit after this single test, I decided to commission something a little more complicated.  Read on!


§  §  §


Dear Bing, That was a fine sonnet. Now I'd like you to write for me a Tibetological blog on the subject of the Seven Seals making use of the literary arts of James Joyce’s Ulysses. A few illustrations would be nice if you don’t mind.  Thanks, D

Bing, PM 3:38

Hello D, thank you for your interest in Tibetology and James Joyce’s Ulysses. I will try to write a blog post on the subject of the Seven Seals using some of the literary techniques of Joyce’s novel. I will also try to create some illustrations for you.


The Seven Seals of Tibet: A Joycean Journey

The Seven Seals of Tibet are a set of symbols that represent the authority and legitimacy of the Tibetan government and its spiritual leader, the Dalai Lama. They are also a source of fascination and controversy for scholars, historians, and collectors, as they reveal the complex and turbulent history of Tibet and its relations with China, India, Mongolia, and other countries. In this blog post, I will explore the origins, meanings, and fates of these seals, using some of the literary devices that James Joyce employed in his masterpiece Ulysses, such as stream of consciousness, allusions, parodies, and wordplay.

The first seal is the Seal of the Dalai Lama, which bears the inscription “Sri bha tsa na'i rgyal po” (King of the Religious Realm) in Lantsa script. It was given to the fifth Dalai Lama by the Mongol ruler Gushri Khan in 1642, when he recognized him as the supreme ruler of Tibet. The seal is made of gold and has a lotus motif on the back. It is considered the most sacred and important seal in Tibetan history, as it symbolizes the unity of religion and politics under the Dalai Lama's leadership. The seal is currently kept in Dharamsala, India, where the 14th Dalai Lama resides in exile.

The second seal is the Seal of the Panchen Lama, which bears the inscription "Sri pan chen bla ma'i rgyal po" (King of the Panchen Lama) in Lantsa script. It was given to the fifth Panchen Lama by the Qing emperor Kangxi in 1713, when he recognized him as the second highest spiritual authority in Tibet. The seal is made of silver and has a vajra motif on the back. It is considered a symbol of the close relationship between the Dalai Lama and the Panchen Lama, who are regarded as manifestations of Avalokiteshvara and Amitabha respectively. The seal is currently missing, as it was taken by the 10th Panchen Lama when he fled to China in 1959, and its whereabouts are unknown.

The third seal is the Seal of Tibet, which bears the inscription "Ganden Phodrang" (Palace of Joy) in Tibetan script. It was created by the fifth Dalai Lama in 1642, when he established his government in Lhasa. The seal is made of copper and has a snow lion motif on the back. It is considered a symbol of the sovereignty and independence of Tibet, as it was used to issue official documents and decrees by successive Dalai Lamas. The seal is currently kept in Dharamsala, India, where it is still used by the Central Tibetan Administration.

The fourth seal is the Seal of Mongolia, which bears the inscription "Mongol ulus-un dalai bla ma" (Dalai Lama of Mongolia) in Mongolian script. It was given to the third Dalai Lama by Altan Khan in 1578, when he conferred him with the title of Dalai Lama. The seal is made of iron and has a sun and moon motif on the back. It is considered a symbol of the spiritual bond between Tibet and Mongolia, as many Mongol rulers supported and protected Tibetan Buddhism. The seal is currently kept in Dharamsala, India.


The fifth seal is the Seal of China, which bears the inscription "Qianlong Chenhan Dalai Lama Yixi Zhibei" (Imperial Edict Bestowing Favor on Dalai Lama) in Chinese script. It was given to the sixth Dalai Lama by the Qing emperor Qianlong in 1751, when he reorganized the Tibetan administration under his supervision. The seal is made of jade and has a dragon motif on the back. It is considered a symbol of the political interference and domination of China over Tibet, as it was used to appoint or depose Tibetan officials by Qing emperors. The seal is currently kept in Beijing, China.


The sixth seal is

the Seal of India,

which bears

the inscription "Bharat Ratna" (Jewel

of India) in Devanagari script.

It was given to

the 14th Dalai Lama by

the Indian government in 1959,

when he was awarded

the highest civilian honor

of India for his contributions to peace and non-violence.

The seal is made

of bronze and has an Ashoka chakra motif on

the back.

It is considered a symbol of

the gratitude and friendship

of India towards Tibet,

as it was the first country to offer asylum and support to

the Dalai Lama and his followers after

the Chinese invasion of Tibet.

The seal is currently kept in Dharamsala, India.


The seventh seal is

the Seal of the World,

which bears

the inscription "Nobel Peace Prize" in Latin script.

It was given to

the 14th Dalai Lama by

the Nobel Committee in 1989,

when he was awarded

the prestigious prize for his efforts to resolve

the Tibetan issue through dialogue and non-violence.

The seal is made

of gold and has a laurel wreath motif on

the back.

It is considered a symbol of

the recognition and respect

of the world towards Tibet,

as it reflects the universal values and aspirations of

the Tibetan people for freedom and dignity.

The seal is currently kept in Dharamsala, India.


These are the Seven Seals of Tibet, each with its own story and significance. They are not mere objects, but living symbols of a rich and complex culture, a proud and resilient nation, and a wise and compassionate leader. They are also reminders of the challenges and struggles that Tibet faces in its quest for justice and peace. They are, in short, the seals of a modern odyssey, a journey that is not yet over, but that continues to inspire and enlighten us all.





This is Dan speaking now, not Bing. Well, I'm oddly and unexpectedly impressed by the level of creativity demonstrated here in constructing a never before known variant set of the Seven Seals. In terms of artistic style, its invented Lotus motif “Tibetan seals” seem to incorporate aspects more or less Japanese or Islamic. A connoisseur confronted with these images would be unlikely to immediately identify them as Tibetan. This AI ability to make mashups might appear commendable from some perspectives, a step toward a genre of world art comparable to so-called “world music.”

I have to say, I thought myself quite clever in asking Bing to use the style of James Joyce, since his writings are characterized by just what AI is least capable of pulling off — allusions, parodies, and wordplay — and in fact it/they promises to do it, then never does. There is something ironic in that agreement that equals refusal. Of course AI is not conscious of being ironic or clever or creative, it could never be that, not like we can.*

What most concerns me is not so much that this could have been passed in with cheating motive as a writing assignment in a human classroom, it’s that it would be regarded as a valid or authoritative source of information in future essays painstakingly composed by humans of the future. Please don’t cite it as anything more or less than what it is. Otherwise the future will be mashups of mashups, mashups that will go on to be further mashed up, much more than it already is. If we have gains in human intelligence thanks to AI or the like, they’ll be offset by the increase in confusion, a commodity that was never in short supply.

(*You’re right, I hear it too, the human arrogance!)



Recommending reading list

David Klotz, “Hieroglyphic Complexity at Esna: Unetymological Spellings, Trigrams, and Anadromes from Esna Temple and Finnegans Wake,”  Hieroglyphs, vol. 1 (2023), pp. 127-148. Joycean Egyptology is, after all, a thing. I’m fairly certain David Klotz is a human being, and one of uncommon intelligence, writing for a real online journal of considerable academic standing, vetted by peer reviewers and so on. It was nothing but a glitch in the Blogger system that cemented his name at the top of Tibetologic, anchored to the title. I cannot undo it, so I beg for his understanding. At the same time, I would like to thank Lloyd Graham, a great authority on the Seven Seals in Euro-Middle Eastern realms, for fortuitously alerting me to David Klotz’s essay. (Note: September 22, 2023 — Today the glitch is undone forever, thanks to A.S. who saved the day.)

Dieter Schuh, Grundlagen tibetischer Siegelkunde. Eine Untersuchung über tibetische Siegelaufschriften in ’Phags-pa-Schrift, VGH Wissenschaftsverlag (Sankt Augustin 1981). Here you will find the real dope on official seals (represented in 1 through 5 in Bing’s list), something the Seven Seals concepts have absolutely (?)* nothing to do with in fact. And to start with the seals of the Fifth Dalai Lama (no. 1 in Bing’s list), we see two of his seals on official documents from his time at pp. 309-322 in the book, and they include every script except Lantsa, and not anything like “Sri bha tsa na'i rgyal po.” What is that anyway, and how would it mean King of the Religious Realm in any language? 
(*If I hesitate on this point, it is just because in lore about King Solomon he is credited with possessing a signet ring that could have had the Seven Seals on it. I didn’t genuinely expect Bing to know that Tibet has his own set of Seven Seals, and it/they did indeed display its/their ignorance of it.)

And what about “It was given to the sixth Dalai Lama by the Qing emperor Qianlong in 1751”? Bing has to mean the seventh, not the sixth. I could go on if I have to, but from what I’ve seen I wonder how it would justify the effort. 

The task of the fact-checking researcher is if anything compounded and not in the least reduced. 


So finally, today’s answer is “No.” I don’t believe I will ever again ask AI to guest author a Tibeto-logic blog. Why take the quick and easy way out? But if you are a human doing Tibetan humanities types of research and would like to guest author a blog, let’s talk.


± ± ±

PS (September 1, 2023):

Honest journalists ought to get on the phone with someone holding the opposite view. Well, okay. So in what might  be an uptick in favor of Buddhist and Buddhological AI, see what Raymond Lam says in his latest newsletter for the Buddhist Door:

Lim Kooi Fong, who is editor of the long-running Buddhist Channel and another longtime friend, has deployed NORBU – Neural Omniscient Robotic-Being for Buddhist Understanding – to generate content for his website.

We have just demonstrated that using AI as a crutch can create more work hours for the humans, not less. Well, unless you are satisfied to slap cooked-up informational stew on the table for those ignorant enough to find instruction in eating it. Still, I went to the Buddhist Channel website and found there this banner appealing for funding.


We Need Your Help to Train the

Buddhist AI Chat Bot NORBU!

(Neural Omniscient Robotic-Being for Buddhist Understanding)


If it/they’re* Omniscient, I’m wondering in what subject would it/they require instruction? Is the aim to find tutors for it/them? I don’t believe most Senseis, Roshis, Geshes and Rinpoches of the world are in need of more work, but there is not a chance this particular “NORBU” will be putting them out on the streets. Or is there?

*Out of respect for A.I., I decided to allow it/them its/their preferred number-ambivalent neuter pronoun. I do feel silly doing it. I'll stop now.

PSS: September 2, 2023

Question:  Could Bing AI have self-awareness of its/their own deficiencies? Or would that self-awareness itself be artificial? I found this Q&A at its/their own website:

Q: Are Bing's AI-generated responses always factual?

A: Bing aims to base all its responses on reliable sources - but AI can make mistakes, and third party content on the internet may not always be accurate or reliable. Bing will sometimes misrepresent the information it finds, and you may see responses that sound convincing but are incomplete, inaccurate, or inappropriate. Use your own judgment and double check the facts before making decisions or taking action based on Bing's responses.

PSSS: October 15, 2023

Who Lusts for Certainty Lusts for Lies. With thanks for M.W. for recommending it, it puts a damper on our hopes to exploit “big data.”


PSSSs: March 26, 2024

After seeing this, I'm determined to take an unbreakable vow never again to bring generative Artificial Intelligence to play here in Tibeto-logic. All my writing will be generated by my artful, playful and hopefully intelligent enough human capabilities, no matter how far they fall short of perfection. "Done by a human" is a good thing. "Done by A.I." is an insult to us all. Just look closely, test and scrutinize the artificial inanity they produce, a cleverness that calculates just how far they can get away with tricking us. Never again.

But in the meanwhile I’ll have to worry about getting "scraped" to feed their concoctions.


 




Saturday, August 26, 2023

Five Seals of Bon, but with Symbolic Figures This Time

 

click to enlarge

I never expected to see this. Last year I blogged about the several Afroeurasian versions of the Seven Seals. Among other things I concluded that the several sets of seven are interrelated only here and there and with difficulty, but also that Tibetan sources never seem to correlate them with symbolic figures as the Arabic and Hebrew versions do.

Have a quick look at that earlier blog, entitled “Seven Seals, Times Several,” and then come back here before getting lost in it. The frontispiece you can see there is a fine example of an Arabic set of the symbolic figures.

Let me quote a passage from it:

“Observe that much of both the content and the context of the Islamo-Judaic seals is not findable in the Tibetan. You find no symbolic figures or ‘signs’ in the set of Seven Seals in Tibet. You find none of the symbolic correspondences with the seven then-recognized planets, or the seven days of the week. Perhaps most significantly of all, you never see the talismanic theme of personal protection in those same Tibetan accounts.”

We could add that the seven seals in Tibet are never representing a series of disastrous world-ending events like you find in the book of Revelations. To the contrary, they usually represent exclusivity, secrecy, occultation, and hidden knowledge.

So, Lo and behold! Here we have a set of five at the end of the next-to-last line. Let me clip it out for you to make it clearer, I hope.  



First you see what look like three wavy lines one on top of each other. That’s a stack of Tibetan na-ros, or ‘o’ vowels. Then you see a three-fold stack of what I suppose could be number ‘4’s, although I read them as being three ‘l’ letters in their subscript forms (la-btags).* Next is, ‘obviously,’ a version of the well-known swastika (in case you are curious, it is oriented in the normal Bon direction; the banned-in-Germany National Socialist swastika is not only oriented in the opposite direction, it is also standing precariously on one of its four corners... Please pay attention to the distinction, people).  The fourth item you see is a stack of three triangles arranged to create one larger triangle.  Finally we see something that could represent flames, I suppose, although in truth I am not at all sure how to read it.  Just before the set of five symbolic figures is a list of three types of seals: the secret seal (gsang rgya), the hidden seal (gab rgya), and the treasure seal (tyer rgya, i.e. gter rgya). Then, at the beginning of the next line is the label “Five Seals” (rgya lnga).

(*I’m thinking they could be meant to represent three eyes, stacked one on top of the other... but in that case I see no clear sign of a dot for the pupil, which seems essential.)

 

Let me try clipping them out again, perhaps clearer this time:




So, there you have my conclusion for today: It turns out I was mistaken in saying that the sets of seals in Tibet never are found keyed to symbolic figures. This one example just proved me wrong.

I think it is just as well that I find myself unable to give a more cogent interpretation of these five symbolic figures. They really ought to remain secret after all. In a general way I’m reflecting that they (whether in this Bon example, or the sets in Arabic and Hebrew sources) may have something to do with traditional marking systems such as those humans have been using for many millennia by now, as ways to talley up numbers or mark ownership (mason marks and livestock brandings, are good examples). Well, before you call me out on my silliness, I would ask you to admit that when we are presented with basic letter-like figures that make no immediate sense, our minds are likely to place them in some such category. Other speculations I’ve seen associate them with the 7 chakras, but this idea is entirely invisible in pre-20th-century sources that I know of.

Well, I didn’t open up my blogsite today just to confess the errors of my ways or announce to the world my failed attempts at understanding (there are even more important examples I could show off to you another day), but on a more positive note to alert the researchers in our field of Tibeto-sophy to an amazing new resource for Tibetan texts belonging to the Bon religion. Without more ado before saying adieu, I abruptly send you there to explore for yourself.  Just go here:


To find the particular volume and our passage, go here:


Then navigate to the scanned page no. 33 for the title page of the text that continues until scanned page no. 55, where you will see the Five Seals (or Five Seals + 3 = 8?).


PS: I don’t know much about the cycle of teachings our colophon page belongs to, apart from it being a long-life ritual practice involving both medicines and prayers associated with Tsewang Rinzin (ཚེ་དབང་རིག་འཛིན་), one of the ancient Bon sages. If we restrict ourselves to what is there on that single final page, I’ll quickly and lackadaisically paraphrase some of it for you, like so:

The sum of all the knowledge-bearing sages of India, Persia, Burusho, Orgyan, Zhangzhung, Tangut Land, Tibet and so on is found combined in this practice.  It is the heart-of-hearts of the twenty-five aural transmissions. If you were to practice it without distractions in a secluded setting you would be bound to swiftly attain the superpowers. This particularly aural transmission was passed along by Dranpa Namkha to the triad of the Lord Monarch, Pakor Bairotsana, and the woman sky-goer Coza Bönmo. These three regarded it as especially profound and precious, so they hid it in a hardened leather chest, so that one day when due to karmic forces Bon would decline, it would transform lack of faith into faith [?unclear to me]. When they were at the treasure sites in order to conceal these texts, they hid them as first-fruits treasures and as profound treasures, and accompanied this by aspiration prayers that they would in the future be revealed.


An Arabic Seven Seals example,
after Dawkins (read from right to left of course).
Notice the ‘ladder’ in the middle
(it sometimes looks like a hashtag - #)

Suggested readings

Joám Evans Pim, Sergey A. Yatsenko, Oliver Timken Perrin, eds., Traditional Marking Systems: A Preliminary Survey, Dunkling Books (London 2010), in 518 pages, with plentiful black-and-white illustrations.

Donatella Rossi, “The Lo rgyus chen mo in the Collection of the Ye khri mtha’ sel Attributed to Dran-pa nam-mkha’,” contained in: Samten G, Karmay and Yasuhiko Nagano, eds., New Horizons in Bon Studies, National Museum of Ethnography (Osaka 2000), pp. 181-191. I think it is suggestive that the rare Ye-khri cycle of Dzogchen shares the same “teaching scene” with our colophon in which Drenpa Namkha passes his teachings on to three prominent disciples: Emperor Trisongdetsen, Pagor Bairotsana and Coza Bönmo. These teachings were then received as an aural transmission from Tsewang Rinzin to Lungbön Lhanyen in 1088 CE, although that date isn’t very secure (1088 according to some is his birth date, in which case the aural transmission would have taken place in 1118, his 31st year).

Richard Smoley, “The Mystery of the Seven Seals,” originally published in the Spring 2017 issue of Quest magazine, but also placed online. Not everyone will appreciate the Theosophical approach taken here, but there is something to be said about connecting the Seven Seals with a liberating ascent through the planetary spheres (in Judaeo-Christian-Islamic sources, not in Indo-Tibetan sources, even if there, too, you can find liberating ascents aplenty). This author takes a further step by mysteriously connecting them with the chakras of the human body.

You may also want to go back to still another recent Tibeto-logic blog entitled “One Secret of the Seals.” It demonstrates the presence of an Aramaic (as well as Hebrew and Arabic) word for “seal” in a Tibetan manuscript scribed in  the mid-13th century. Yes, it does.

Comments by Lloyd Graham

Hi Dan, and congratulations on spotting that seal series! I have never come across anything like that sequence of glyphs, so I’m afraid that - beyond guesswork - I don’t have any insights into what might lie behind the symbols. If, as you suggested previously, the Tibetans were aware of the Solomonic Seven Seals as a series of symbols, this may have motivated one or two Tibetan writers to give graphic form to the local set of seven seals, even if they were primarily textual in nature.

At a stretch, one could see the strange 5- or 6-spike symbol at the far right of the Tibetan series as reflecting the vertices of the pentagram/hexagram at the far right of the Islamicate series, the three-triangles glyph as a refraction of the Islamicate “three strokes” symbol, and the centrally-positioned rectilinear swastika as a local reworking of the centrally-positioned rectilinear “ladder” glyph, but the two left-most Tibetan symbols lack any correspondence with the canonical Islamicate series.

The only other thing that I noticed is that the subset of five Tibetan seals that have been illustrated graphically in EAP687/1/16 seems to correspond well with the subset that you mentioned previously in connection with O-rgyan-gling-pa's 14th-century treasure finder, Bka’-thang Sde Lnga, Mi-rigs Dpe-skrun-khang (Beijing 1990). Your paraphrase of the page on which the symbols appear reveal that it is focused on supreme knowledge being hidden as a treasure for later seekers to (re)discover, so there is a strong thematic overlap.

Similarly, one of the uses claimed for the Islamicate Seven Seals was in finding hidden treasure: 

“... these seven signs were written on the gate of the Ka'ba, and they can be applied in seventy-two ways to lift buried and concealed property and treasures. If you want to undertake such a work with them, write with saffron and hang them around the neck of a white much-crowing cock and allow it to run at the place where the treasure or the concealed property should lie. At every place where he stops and looks with his foot or beak in the earth or where he crows, there is the treasure or the concealed property.” 
    Hans Winkler, Siegel und Charaktere in der Mohammedanischen Zauberei.


Tuesday, August 22, 2023

The Realm of Dharmas, a Treasury of Jewels, Chapter 7: Everything is Totally Naturally-Arrived-at in Bodhicitta



 

The Realm of Dharmas,

a Treasury of Jewels,



by Longchen Rabjampa




 CHAPTER SEVEN

EVERYTHING IS TOTALLY NATURALLY-ARRIVED-AT IN BODHICITTA


[Not only are all dharmas included in Bodhicitta, they are naturally-arrived-at.]


The scriptural authority of Bodhicitta is of a nature 

naturally-arrived-at:

The summit of the King of Mountains, arriving-at the meaning

of the Unmade,

is exalted over all, the great king Supreme Vehicle.


[Just as the King of Mountains is exalted in the middle of the four world-continents, the Ati Vajra Heart Vehicle is explained as the peak of peaks, exalted over all.]


˚


[A simile showing Ati to be the summit of all.]


When one has arrived at the summit of the King of Mountains,

all the lower valleys are seen at once.

The valleys do not see the nature of the peak.

Just so, the Vajra Heart Ati

is the peak of peaks of Vehicles

which clearly sees the meanings of all the others.

The lower Vehicles do not see the meaning of this Ati.

That is left for the time when they have arrived-at the naturally-arrived-at

peak.


[While from the summit of the mountain all the valleys are seen all at once, from the valleys the top of the mountain cannot be clearly seen.  Just so, the significances of each of the lower Vehicles are seen simultaneously from the Ati perspective.  The significance of Ati the lower Vehicles do not see since they confuse the high with the low.]


˚


[The relative greatness and specialities of the higher and lower vehicles are further explained.]


When you make a request to the great Wish Granting Jewel,

everything wished for naturally comes.

Most people, if asked, will say it isn’t so.

Because the Vajra Heart Three Bodies are naturally-arrived-at

out of the Realm as it is, Buddhahood arrives-at itself.

The greatness of Ati is just this—no pushing, no striving.

While the lower Vehicles exert themselves in accepting some things

and rejecting others,

they don’t get there for aeons.  They have some thick phlegm congestion

disease.


[When someone gets everything desired just by asking the Wish Granting Jewel, that is something only for lucky people.  When the qualities in self-engendered Full Knowledge are realized in a naturally-arrived-at way, and stay at rest without pushing, it is something for only the best practitioners.  When they make wishes to the all-purpose Jewel, some people make their requests to a piece of wood in the shape of a jewel and so, do not reach their aim.  It is the same with those who want to be buddhaized through the pushing and striving of the lower Vehicles.  They teach that there is nothing more because they are worn-out and congested with thick, sticky phlegm.]


˚


[Awareness beyond working/pushing is taught to be the Three Bodies.  The underlying meaning of “Dharmabody as it lays” is…]


Totally level by nature, Awareness-Bodhicitta

(spread-out Dharma Proper-as-it-lays)

is receptive centre of primordially level Nature Dharmabody;

is, while all have it, objective sphere of the fortunate few;

is, according to how it is placed, arrived-at by leaving it lay 

in that continuity.


[The meaning of Dharmabody is the undiffusive void-clarity substance of Awareness.  Realization of the Mind Proper as-it-lays is, aside from a few, not something for all.  Its style is Great Levelness beyond extremes since it is the substance of the Realm of Vajra.


Awareness Self-dawned says,


The void-clarity mandala of Vajra is

the Dharmabody itself, undistracted and

passing-right-through.

It is beyond the extreme views that postulate

a subjective ‘grasper’.

In the Dharma beyond extreme views is no desire.]


˚


[The underlying meaning of “Assets Body as-it-lays”:]


Embracing.   Spreading.   Self-luminous.   Naturally-arrived-at.

The Perfect Assets are in all, while seeing is a thing for the few.

When whatever appears is left ‘as is’ without working or pushing,

it is revealed.


[Awareness self-luminous is the nature of this Assets Body.  It shines to perfection when, after it dawns without impediment on the apparent objects, it is left to be bright without entering into grasping.]


˚


[The underlying meaning of “Emanation Body”:]


A spreading receptive centre, the Emanation Body with

unlimited roles to play

is in everything, luminous from the time when it dawns.

The miracles of wish granting qualities and activities

are nowhere else to be found.

                                          The receptive centre of pure self-Awareness

like muddied water will,   if allowed to clean itself,

                     come out clear.


[When Awareness dawns from the continuity of its appropriate abode, the part which seems to dawn, naked and passing-through, is the Emanation Body.  It has totally dawned as qualities and activities.  So its dawning, a mirror of clairvoyance and Buddha-eye, into this continuity beyond accepting/rejecting and working-pushing is like the appearance of a clear reflection on water pure of muddiness.]


˚


[Now the underlying meaning of “Three Bodies” is shown as a single Realm beyond working-pushing.]


Pushing doesn’t get it.  The dharmas primordially pure

shine in the receptive centre of self-produced, clearly

comprehended Buddhahood.

What you’ve already arrived-at doesn’t need to be striven for

starting now.

This is the underlying meaning of “Greatness situated in itself”:

Dharma Proper receptive centre.

Don’t push to arrive-at the untransformable Naturally-arrived-at.


[The Mind Proper-Suchness, the substance of Dharmabody, is arrived-at on its own part.  So pushings-strivings are unnecessary.]


˚


[Such an Awareness is taught to be single & self-situated.]


It is the total basis,   the laid-down basis,  the clearly comprehended

heart basis.

From the Continuity of its nature it has not the least bit moved.

So don’t compromise on the meaning of the luminous receptive centre

Awareness.


[The appropriate substance of Awareness is no where arrived-at and not to be fused or diffused.  If you want to realize and have revealed to you its meaning, the meditative absorption where knowing is settled in its own place, and no compromising from the continuity of the naked passing-right-through, are two most important things.  Dharma Proper lacks a mover because it is contradicted by the movement of thoughts distracted toward objects.]


˚


The reason it is arrived-at when everything is placed?

The five Full Knowledges, untransformable lords embracing all beings.

The five Bodies.   The five Speeches.   The five Minds.

The five Qualities.   the five Activities.

Even the Adi-Buddha is naturally-arrived-at in

this receptive centre beyond beginning and ending.

So don’t look elsewhere.   Its nature is totally arrived-at.


[The substance of Awareness, being beyond transforming and transporting, is the five—Vajra Body, etc.  The substance of  Awareness, being incommunicable, is the five—Dharma Proper clearly comprehended Speech, etc.  The substance of Awareness, being undiffusive, is the five—self-engendered Full Knowledge Mind, etc.  The substance of Awareness, being all Qualities—the basis of all completion, etc.  Since everything is, in the substance of Awareness, arrived-at as pure & level Full Knowledge and the four Activities, it is the five—immaculate Dharma Proper Activity, etc.  The completion of these twenty-five is the Adi-Buddha Total Good clearly comprehended.  Being totally arrived-at in the substance of Awareness, it is not to be looked for elsewhere.]


˚


[While sangsara/nirvana is arrived-at in Awareness, there is no Dharmabody apart from Mind Proper.]


Though the Dharmabody of all Buddhas be clearly comprehended,

there is nothing other than the meaning of untransformable levelness.

Because the former is self-engendered and naturally-arrived-at in the

latter,

it is unsearched for, unstriven for.  Hopes and fears are naturally

put to rest.


[Even that attainment of Buddhas’ Dharmabody is nothing other than the substance of Awareness revealed without outside contaminants or contrivance.  And Awareness is, because everything has it without transforming or transporting, alighted in naturally-arrived-atness, implicit Awareness uncontrived.


The Pearl Strand says,


Complete Buddhahood is implicit Awareness alone.


The All Making King says,


I, the All Making Bodhicitta,

am unproduced.  When there is no longer subject and object,

“Unborn Dharmabody” are just words that have occurred.]


˚


[The Mind Proper of sangsara is arrived-at as Buddhabody.  So renunciation is unnecessary.]


The self-engendered Full Knowledge of all sentient beings

is also unmade and unsearched for, naturally-arrived-at as Buddhabody.

So do not cling to accepting/rejecting.     Settle down

in this Realm of Dharmas continuity.


[This word for sentient beings, “Citta possessors,” means nothing apart from the continuity of Awareness.  Since the same Awareness is not to be divided up between sangsara and nirvana, there is no need for pushing and striving.]


˚


[Awareness is passed beyond moving and pushing.]


In the unmoving, unthinkable naturally level substance,

the meaning of Unmade is arrived-at.  It is a spacious receptive centre

foundation.


[Because Dharmabody is naturally-arrived-at in the Awareness substantiality, abiding in the substance behind “the meaning of Unmade arrived-at” is the strange and marvelous Full Knowledge.  This is shown to be the foundation of the Realm of Dharmas beyond all horizons.]


˚


[The stream of naturally-arrived-at empowerment is shown to be totally completed in the Awareness substantiality.]


The MASTER Body and Total Wisdom of All Animate Beings Untransformable

and the EMPOWERMENT Royal Method Head Anointing Great Self-engendered

have naturally-arrived-at the total disentanglement of

appearances/becoming     and     material/vital

Working/seeking is unnecessary.   The     nature naturally-arrived-at

arrives-at absolutely everything,

expands into Great Naturally-arrived-at.


[Total Awareness is completed in the naturally-arrived-at substance of the Three Bodies.  So when the complete empowerment arrived-at in self-engendered Full Knowledge takes hold, there is no depending on present exertion and pushing or on empowerments employing consecrated articles.]


Monday, August 07, 2023

Death Rituals Drawn by a Tibetan Monk-Artist


Plates 1 and 2
(Clearer illustrations below)


If you are intrigued by the use of The Tibetan Book of the Dead in Tibetan funerals, these drawings are well worth examining.  What they may lack in artistic refinement they make up for in illustrative value. They open a window on actual practice, so much so it doesn’t matter if some of its panes are not fully transparent.

There are a few more-or-less contemporary examples of British and Europeans commissioning Tibetan artists to depict Tibetan life and culture.  We have the Hummel essay with its illustrations of medieval tortures, as well as the Wise Collection with its travel atlas, both excellent examples. There is a reason why the three sets so easily compare to each other, you know.

A critical-minded person of the 21st century might think these rather crudely drafted artworks* are of interest to us only as products of colonialism, meant to somehow further colonial interests. My point in bringing attention to them is different. While admitting the conditions of their production, there is a lot more to say. That is, if we could only overcome some of the obstacles to understanding them. These obstacles involve recognizing the problems in communication between the Lhasa Tibetan traveler and the lonely official in a British colonial outpost both of them far from home and each in his own way out of his element. Like all communications, there is an ongoing reassessment of what the conversation partner might be willing and capable of understanding. And this goes three ways. It isn’t just the ‘conversation’ (mediated by a translator?) between the two of them, the monk artist and the colonial officer, but between them and the one responsible for presenting it to us readers, Charles Horne. This three- or four-way dynamic creates a continuous drag on all our efforts to understand the drawings. I believe I can perceive this problem, but have no way of imagining how I could ever overcome it and deliver the all-rounded truth, the bigger picture. Well, we can try and go some of the distance and call it a day.

(*The charm of its folkish art is in its relatively direct honesty, as well as its clear Tibetan style. We can appreciate that the artist has a karma-given talent, even if it is not definitively “fine art.” It could be that the original drawings were colored, and that it wasn’t possible or practical to reproduce color in the journal [see Lange’s book, p. 99], so there may have been tracing and redrawing going on that would explain some of the awkward turns. It will become clear that some parts of the original set of drawings were cut away in the publishing process, which is a pity, as the originals are for all we know irrevocably lost.)

Since we are never told what the official asked the artist to do, we can only assume that the subject matter was assigned by the former because of some special interest in death rituals in Central Tibet. But maps of the Wise Collection were likewise commissioned by the same Major Hay, while the depiction of tortures, as published in Hummel’s essay, was made at the instigation of Moravian missionaries. All of them seem to belong to the same circle of artworks, indeed by the same artist. A richly illustrated new book on the Wise Collection looks into this whole problem. I recommend Diana Lange’s outstanding book as number one on your reading list if you can possibly get your hands on it.

And really, with apologies for repeating myself, I have no haughty attitude thinking I can see and understand everything. Be real: I’m a researcher, doing my best to see everything I can see with the help that is within my reach. At most I think I can help the conversation by making a thing here and there gain greater focus and clarity. Assuming you are willing I invite you, the Tibeto-logicians of the world, to join in a conversation of our own in which we will analyze and discuss every single detail, while at the same time finding ways to fit practices into broader patterns of meaning.

So here is a transcription of Horne’s 1873 essay. I’ve attempted to make my copy exact down to the last detail (even those circumflex accents on top of vowels that appear to me to contribute nothing), although I did replace SMALL CAPITALS with bold. The red letters are my own rubrics, not part of the original publication. In these red inserts of mine I’ve concentrated on the Tibetan terms and what these ought to mean, particularly where I perceive a problem.



Art. III.—On the Methods of Disposing of the Dead at Llassa, Thibet, etc.  By Charles Horne, late B.C.S.

In the year 1857 one of the travelling Llamas from Llassa came to Lahoul, in the Kûlû country on the Himalêh, and hearing of the mutiny was afraid to proceed. Major Hay, who was at that place in political employ, engaged this man to draw and describe for him many very interesting ceremonies in use in Llassa, amongst which was the method there employed in disposing of dead bodies. This so exactly confirms the accounts given by Strabo and Cicero, and is, moreover, of itself so curious, that I have transcribed it, with as many passages relating to the subject as readily came to hand ; and as the Llama was a very fair draughtsman, I have had facsimiles made of his drawings to illustrate this paper. I will first give the extracts, and then the account of the Llama.

B.C.S. I take to mean British Civil Service. Kulu Valley is south of Lahul, with the 4,000-meter-high Rohtang (རོ་ཐང་) Pass rising between them. If you are curious about the “Mutiny,” there is a Wiki page about it. These were desperate times. 

This clearly implies that Major Hay had other sets of drawings made depicting still other Lhasa customs and ceremonies. Did he also commission the torture depictions that the missionary Ribbach passed along to the ethnologist Hummel? (Lange’s book says Jäschke was the commissioner.) There is a missing link in it, but it is suggestive that Ribbach’s book includes two Tibetan drawings, one of a carpenter making use of an adze, the other a part of a wedding ceremony. Although both were surely drawn by a Tibetan, they show signs of retouching, added shading and so on. 

Lange’s book quotes from the notes of Hay that would seem to tell us the artist’s several names (see her pp. 34-37). I tried, but couldn’t find out anything more by researching those same names. By contrast, quite a lot can be known about [William Edmund] Hay, the author of the English-language notes published by Horne. His history is explored in Lange’s book, pp. 26-30.

 

M. Huc, the interesting Jesuit traveller, in his Travels, tome ii., p. 347, when at Llassa, alluding to hydrophobia says (free translation) : —“It is only surprising that this horrible complaint does not commit greater ravages when one thinks of the numbers of famished dogs who constantly prowl about the streets of Llassa. These animals are so numerous in this town that the Chinese say, ironically, that the three chief products of the capital of Thibet are Llamas, women, and dogs (Llama-Yatêon-Keon). This astonishing multitude of dogs is caused by the great respect that the Thibetans have for these animals, and the use they make of them for the disposal of the dead. There are four manners of sepulture in Thibet: first, incremation ; second, throwing into the rivers or lakes; third, exposure on the summits of mountains; and the fourth, which is the most flattering of all, consists in cutting the dead bodies [p. 29] in pieces and giving them to the dogs to eat.” The last method is the most general. The poor have for their sepulture the dogs of the environs, but for persons of distinction they employ a little more ceremony. There are establishments where they rear and maintain dogs for this sole purpose, and it is to these places that the Thibetans take their dead to be disposed of. Strabo, Cicero, and Justin, allude to these practices.

Given the time of writing it shouldn’t come to us as such a surprise that classical Latin authorities are given the first and last words here.  While it is true that there is much variation in local practice, I doubt that dogs were ever the main intended consumers. In Lhasa area I’ve heard it said that the dogs were chased away if they tried to approach, that all the work was reserved for the vultures. One might even wonder if the missionary Huc got his idea from the classical authors cited in the next paragraphs. However, we must point out that not one of these classical authors intended to tell us about Tibetan practices, so for this reason their relevance is highly questionable. There was such a strong urge in these early modern ethnographies to trace every observed cultural practice back to a Greek or Latin author, as if there were something direct evidence couldn't prove by itself, as if books are the only reliable sources. Remember, these were the days when everything outside the main monotheistic religion was called paganism or heathenism, and any one pagan was the equivalent of all the others.

But perhaps I need to take back the words I just typed, since at least in the time of the Fifth Dalai Lama, there is one bit of literary evidence dogs were included together with the birds as intended recipients (see Gouin's book, p. 60, for a much recommended discussion). At the same time no variant of the term khyi[r] sbyin (giving it to dogs) seems to appear with this meaning in Tibetan literature. At the moment my impression is that the drawing before us is an important evidence that lower class funerals could and sometimes did involve dogs even if this is hardly ever recorded by Tibetan authors. In any case, I don’t find what classical authors have to say relevant or even very interesting, and offer no further comment on them.

 

1. Strabo, speaking of the customs of the nomad Scythians as preserved amongst the Soghdians and Bactrians, says:—“In the capital of the Bactrians, they bring up dogs to which they give a particular name, and this name translated into our language would be ‘interrers.’ These dogs have to devour all those who become feeble from age or illness. Hence it is that the environs of this capital show no tombs; but within the walls many human bones are to be seen. Alexander is said to have abolished this custom.”

2. Cicero attributes the same custom to the Hyrcanians when he says: “In Hyrcania plebs publicos alit canes; optimates, domesticos. Nihile autem genus canum illud scimus esse. Sed pro sua quisque facultate parat a quibus lanietur; iamque optimam illi esse consent sepulturam.” (Tuscul. Quaest, lib. i., p. 45.)

3. Justin says also of the Parthians : “Sepultura vulgi aut avium aut canum laniatus est. Nuda demum ossa terrá obruunt.” (Note de Klaproth.)

Herodotus also alludes to the practice; but the above quotations may be held to be sufficient.


 
Plate 1 - double click on the photo to expand it


Now for the Llama’s account, more in detail. The accompanying sketches by the same hand explain these:—

No 1. Phôwâ Gyâgpâ,—Phôwâ is the name of the mantra or prayer, and Gyagpâ the person repeating it. The drawing represents a man who has died, and by his prayers a Llama had restored the spirit into the belly, and is in the act of drawing out the same by the end of his hair, Trâtenbâ, which he is supposed to unite with his own spirit (or mun); and having done so, he is held, whilst sitting in meditation with his eyes closed, to cause the united spirit to [p. 30] pass out at his own head: Triloknâth is supposed to be there seated whilst he (the Llama) is praying, and so the said united spirit enters the body of Triloknâth by the anus, and thus they both are imagined to have become united to, and mingled with, the essence of the Deity.

Phowa Gyagpa (འཕོ་བ་རྒྱག་པ་) is the label of drawing 1 of Plate One. Drawings 1, 2 and 4 have their own individual labels. Drawing 1 depicts a monk figure administering rites for the dead or dying person. As the label strongly suggests it must be the Phodeb Lama (འཕོ་འདེབས་བླ་མ་) assuring that the consciousness (རྣམ་ཤེས་) will exit through the top of the head rather than any of the inferior bodily apertures. The name for the fontanelle in Tibetan is tsangbug (ཚངས་བུག་), meaning Aperture of Brahma. The Phodeb Lama might pull our a few hairs at the top of the head to facilitate a favorable outcome. Behind Trâtenbâ is the Tibetan skra 'then-pa (སྐྲ་འཐེན་པ་), or pulling out hair.

 

No. 2 is the Sipâ, who comes to consult the dead man’s horoscope and future destiny; and to show how the body is to be placed with reference to the point of the compass.

No. 3 is a relation of the deceased consulting the priest.

No. 4 Gnûvâ (or weeping), is the brother of the deceased receiving consolation from another, who administers chang or spirits, and bids him cheer up.

The astrologer or tsipa (རྩིས་པ་) may help decide what type of interment needs to be done. In drawing 3, the relative of the deceased is consulting with the astrologer who may or may not be a priest (he is wearing monastic robes, even more clearly so when he reappears in drawing no. 9), and in drawing 4 there is mourning or weeping, nguwa (ངུ་བ་), going on, and if you look closely you can see a cup getting filled.

 

Nos. 5 and 6. These are two Getongs, called Gyûnzhûgpa, who are supposed to be for two days and nights meditating and praying mentally for the soul of the deceased.

I suppose Gyûnzhûgpa intends Gyunzhugpa (རྒྱུན་བཞུགས་པ་), or the ones who constantly abide, keeping vigil. The only way I can think to explain the word Getong is to imagine Gendun (དགེ་འདུན་), the Tibetan equivalent of Sanskrit Saṅgha, is hidden in it.

Nos. 7 and 8. Chêdûnpâ reading the Purtô-tî-sôl. The meaning is this: for four days after death the spirit is supposed to hover near, and to preserve the power of seeing and hearing, and hence it listens to the contents of this book, in which are described the six roads by which to travel to the other world:—

Does Chêdûnpâ stand for Chödönpa or Chos ’don-pa (ཆོས་འདོན་པ་), Dharma Reciter? It seems so. And the book they are reciting, Purtô-tî-sôl, has to be the well-known Bardo Thödol (བར་དོ་ཐོས་གྲོལ་). If you inspect closely, you can even make out that same Tibetan title inscribed on the pages they are holding.

 

1. A White road, or Karpo; 2. A Yellow road, or Sirpo; 3. A Black road, or Nâgpô; 4. A Green road, or Jûnzu; 5. A Red road, or Marpo; 6. A Blue road, or Unpo.

The readers shout out relative to these roads in substance as follows: These are the six roads. If you go by the white road, you will reach the Deotas; but you must not go there. If you try the yellow road, you will be reborn on this earth; don’t go by that road, because this re-birth on earth will be eternally repeated. If you go by the black road, you will reach Niruk, or hell; don’t go there, because it will involve endless pain and torment. Don’t go by the green road, which leads through Lamayin, i.e. the sky below Indra’s Paradise, where they are always at war with one another. Don’t go by the red road, because there you will meet with the Idâk, or evil spirits, who have large heads, very small necks, and very empty bellies, which are never satisfied. Don’t go by the blue road, because there are the animals [p. 31] Timôd, who alone have power, and you will be devoured. But look up towards heaven, and you will see, as in a glass flickering, a red and yellow road, shining like lightning. On seeing it you will be greatly afraid, but never fear, and travel by that road, and you will be sure to reach Llama Kânchôk, or God, and you will enter into the Deity. If you cannot by any possibility get by that road, then go by the white road! ! You are now become like air; you can’t remain in this world; so be off! !

In the Chönyid Bardo (ཆོས་ཉིད་བར་དོ་), in each of seven days, an existential decision is made by the intermediate being whether to follow the dull or brightly colored paths into one or another of the states of rebirth. Each day presents paths with specific colors. For a great deal of detail, see the section on the dawning of the peaceful deities in Evans-Wentz’s classic version of Kazi Dawa Samdup’s translation, at pp. 104-131; or, if you prefer, the more readable modern translation by the late Gyurme Dorje, pp. 234-254.  

Deota is a modern way of saying devatā in Sanskrit, one of several Anglo-Indian “Hobson Jobson” terms we could point to. It means divinity. Among the things I cannot explain is Timôd as a word for animal. In this context the expected Tibetan word is dündro (དུད་འགྲོ), likely just a calque of Sanskrit tiryañc, indicating their horizontal locomotion. It could be that Timôd is Tibetan timug (གཏི་མུག), or ignorance, an ‘emotional affliction’ the Buddhists say characterizes animals in particular. Notice, too, that a distortion has entered into the text, it isn’t the problem that the bardo being could be devoured while taking the blue road, but that animal rebirth, a result of taking the blue road, would involve constant danger of being devoured. I cannot enter into the whole theology vs. buddhology problem of how best to present the Christian concept of God to Tibetan Buddhists. The use here of Lama Könchog (བླ་མ་དཀོན་མཆོག) reflects discussions taking place among the missionaries on this very issue (see Jäschke's dictionary, pp. 10-11, and the closing section of John Bray’s essay for a broad treatment).

 

No. 9, Sipa, or Llama, consulting his book to see how the corpse is to be disposed of. If burnt, how the face is to be turned. The horn is that of the Sûrû or Isôtio, which he takes in his hand to drive away evil spirits.

It is possible part of the drawing was cut off, since here we do not see anyone consulting a book or holding a horn. The astrologer is doing the death calculations (ཤི་རྩིས་) on his chalk board with a stylus. The horn of the Sûrû must mean the horn of a rhinoceros, or seru (བསེ་རུ་), about an animal named Isôtio I haven’t the least idea. But then I also have no knowledge of the ritual use of rhino horns, do you? You may also wonder about the complicated astrological chart lying open in front of the astrologer. To see a magnificent example you need to consult the original edition of Chogay Trichen Rinpoche’s Gateway to the Temple, the two foldout illustrations at the end of the book.

 

Plate 2

No. 10, Sûrukâpâ, burns incense.

It may well seem difficult to justify and be sure of it, but I suppose this intends the tsasur (ཚ་གསུར་) rite, or rather the one who performs that rite, the *tsasur-gyapa (*ཚ་གསུར་རྒྱག་པ་)?  Tsasur literally means ‘hot singeing.’ It employs that syllable sur (གསུར་) that we’ve blogged about before (at this link). But the syllable can also appear in a bisyllabic form suru (སུ་རུ་) as in surupa (སུ་རུ་པ་), a rite involving the burning of barley known from ethnographic sources. It is very likely “pagan” and pre-Buddhist in its origins, while the word itself links it to very ancient Mesopotamian sin expiation rites and similar grain/bread singeing rites of the Middle East continually practiced until today. To call this rite an incense burning is a little off the mark. It is more like a food offering for divine or spirit recipients.* 
(*The most recommended discussion is the one in Gouin's book, pp. 26-29.  Tibetanists can find more references to ethnographical literature in the su ru pa and gsur entries of TibVocab, and there is of course the article on tsasur by Panglung Rinpoche listed in the blog link supplied just above.).

 

No. 11, Ro, or a corpse. It is tied by a rope to the top of the room in a corner, and seated on an iron frame or stool, when the impurities are supposed to empty themselves below into a pan placed for the purpose. A cloth is placed over the head to conceal the face, and a pardah, or screen of cloth, is placed before the body, on which is affixed a picture of Sangyê Mulla, or Doojêh Zhigrit, a deity of the Gelukpa.*1

Here we see the only two Tibetan-language labels of Plate Two:  Sangyé Mulla is misspelled in an amusing way, making us think of Iranian Mullahs, but the Tibetan-letter inscription leaves no doubt it means Sangyé Menla (སངས་རྒྱས་སྨན་བླ་), the Medicine Buddha Bhaiṣajyaguru, while Doojêh Zhigrit is Dorjé Jigjé (རྡོ་རྗེ་འཇིགས་བྱེད་), or Vajrabhairava. Ro (རོ་) is indeed the ordinary word for corpse, but it is odd that the curtain is called by the Persian-derived word pardah that does mean ‘curtain’, better known in the Anglo-Indian form purdah, meaning not only the curtain, but the practice of isolating of women that curtain indicates. 
Like a few of the other drawings, it appears that part of this one was cut off in the process of publication. 
The suttoo word that follows I am unable to supply with a correct Tibetan spelling, and in any case it appears to apply to the lost part of the drawing. I see now that suttoo is what is in more recent times called sattu, a kind of flour made of parched grains or legumes. In either spelling it is an Indic term most likely intended as a ‘cultural translation’ for the Tibetan dietary staple tsampa, a flour made from parched barley.

 

Before the corpse on the ground is placed a little suttoo (fine flour), and some water. In this plate the knees only of the corpse are shown, the rest must be supposed.

No. 12 represents a man carrying off the corpse packed up in a portable shape, as also others with necessaries. The class of men who perform this work are called Togdun.

In general Togden (རྟོགས་ལྡན་) means a ‘realized one’. It’s the Tibetan equivalent of yogi-sadhu meditators of India. (Ronge’s essay calls them Tobden [སྟོབས་ལྡན་], or men with great strength even though “they often call themselves རྟོགས་ལྡན་,” pp. 3, 6)  Like the sadhus, they often wear their uncut hair in a topknot.  Here the specific meaning of ‘corpse bearer’ seems an example of polite euphemism. The usual idea is that they might be practitioners of Cutting practice (གཅོད་), for obvious if not therefore necessarily correct reasons. After all, the Cutting practitioners make an offering out of their own individual body (as part of a vividly real visualization practice), not the body of any other. In fact, they are regarded by Lhasa people as an outcaste group (ibid., p. 7) in the sense one should not touch them, and more importantly, have meals together with (let alone marry) them. This low-caste non-commensality is something they share with butchers and metalworkers (see our earlier blog, “Great Balls of Iron”).

 

No. 13. The corpse at this place, Tûtôt, is pegged out to five wooden pins. Then it is scored all over with a knife, and the men retire to a short distance and sit down and drink chang, or spirits, as shown in No. 14. The vultures meanwhile tear the flesh from the body, which does not take long, in consequence of the numbers always frequenting these spots. When the men return they find only the skeleton. They then take the bones to No. 15, where they pound them

*1 This Llama would appear to have belonged to the Gelukpa, or yellow sect, and his description applies more particularly to the customs of that sect of Buddhists, which is well represented at Llassa. The word means virtuous.

[p. 32] up with stones and hammers, after which they are thrown to the vultures. No dogs are allowed here, and the place is called Châtôr, from Châ, “a bird.”

Châtôr (བྱ་གཏོར་) means scattering [for] the birds. The drawing shows the corpse secured to stakes to prevent the birds from dragging it away. Tûtôt is just an odd way of transcribing durtrö (དུར་ཁྲོད་), not really a proper name just the word for any charnel ground. 
The footnote 1 is mistaken in saying the monk artist would have to be a Gelugpa, all indications point to him being a Nyingmapa.

 

No. 16  is a man singeing the hair off the head, a portion of the skull of which is preserved and afterwards pounded up, mixed with earth, and formed into small shapes with figures of Triloknâth or Sakya stamped upon them, or moulded into small Chortens or Dagobas.

This refers to the making of funerary tsatsa (ཚ་ཚ་). After clay has been mixed with remains of the deceased, lumps of it are stamped with metal molds into the shapes of Buddhist sacred objects: holy texts, divine images or chortens. After hardening they might be placed in a pure place in nature, or in a tsakhang (ཚ་ཁང་). I imagine the author[s?] might have had the Triloknath temple in neighboring Chamba in mind, otherwise I can’t explain his use of the name. “Sakya” here means Śākyamuni.

 

No. 17 shows us the Tôgduns drinking tea after their work is ended.

Here you may see that there is a tripod for heating the tea. I suppose the two figures directly above are drinking tea, while the pair directly above them are no. 14, the chang drinkers.

 

No. 18 represents a man driving off the vultures, Chagôt, to prevent them devouring the corpse until it shall first have been properly scored all over.

Chagôt is chagö (བྱ་རྒོད་). It’s the normal word for vulture, although if we pull the two syllables apart it can mean 'wild/militant bird.'

 

Plate 3

Plate no. 3 represents a place in Llassa called Râgyûp-dûtôd. Ra means “a horn”; Gyup, “behind”; Dutod, “Golgotha.

There is a small mistake here, since even if ra does mean ‘horn’, in this context it ought to be spelled rags, meaning ‘dike’. This Ragyab Durtrö (རགས་རྒྱབ་དུར་ཁྲོད་, correcting the label given: ལྷ་ས་ར་རྒྱབ་དུ་ཁྲོད་) is said to be located near Kusangtse House (The Life and Times of George Tsarong of Tibet, 1920–1970, p. 51). Golgotha is an odd choice for a translation for Durtrö, Akeldama would have been a much better match.

 

Here are five stones fixed in the ground, to which the corpse is tied, and three men, Tôgdun, are cutting up the body and bones, all of which are given to the dogs. This mode of disposal of the dead is called Ki-chin (Ki is a dog). Very many dogs always remain at this place. The hammers and axes are for breaking up the skeleton. The man on the right supplies the operators with chang or spirits.

Ki-chin is khyijin (ཁྱི་སྦྱིན་), offering [it to] dogs, not a term found in Tibetan literature. What we do find is the term chakhyijin (བྱ་ཁྱིར་སྦྱིན་), offering to birds and dogs. Even this only shows up three times in a BDRC search, and all three instances are fairly recent.

 

No. 18 represents the house which is called Râgyuptôgdun, and is built of horns and inhabited by the Tôgdun. There are a hundred of such houses in the suburbs of Llassa, besides two hundred inhabited by the butchers (Shêva) constructed in a similar manner.

All these people beg and collect much money, chiefly from the relations of the dead, by whom they are well paid.

They are said to be insolent in their demands, and if anyone gives them half a tunka (or small piece of money), they spit upon it and throw it away, saying, “If you are not ashamed to give so little, I am ashamed to receive it.”

Many early travelers to Lhasa have noticed the ragyabpa homes made of horns (and bones).  I cannot hold back from sharing some jewels of wisdom from the respectable American ambassador William Rockhill, as recorded in a footnote to Sarat Chandra Das’s classic book Journey to Lhasa and Tibet (for the quote see under “Das” in the list of references down below). I find it quite funny, only not sure if you will share in my grim sense of humor. I’m thinking you won’t.


No. 19 is the parapet of the Râkâtchûmi or well.

My best guess is that this refers to the Ragyab Chumig (རགས་རྒྱབ་ཆུ་མིག), or the well in the neighborhood back of the Lhasa dike.

 

No. 20 is a Chânochûp chorten, with a figure of Triloknath, supposed to have appeared there miraculously without mortal assistance.

The Changchub Chorten (བྱང་ཆུབ་མཆོད་རྟེན་) is the most commonly built type of chorten among Tibetans today, originally built to memorialize the Deed of the Buddha when He found Awakening.

 

Plate 4

[p. 33]

No. 21, or Purkung (Pûr being applied to the corpse of a superior and Ro to that of an inferior; Khung signifies a house), shows the method in which the higher people of Llassa are burnt. A building is first erected, with a hollow in the centre, into which the body is placed in an upright position. The face is covered with red silk, and the wood used to burn the body is Shukpa, or pencil cedar (Juniperus exelsa), and frankincense. The attending Llama is shown feeding the flames with ghee or clarified butter.

Plate 4 needs to be divided with a vertical line down the middle, with Tibetan cremation rites on your left, and Chinese mausoleum rites on your right.  The Tibetan script label for no. 21, burkhang (བུར་ཁང་), has to be read purkhang (པུར་ཁང་). The syllable pur (པུར་) is often spelled spur (སྤུར་), even sometimes dpur (དཔུར་). Whatever its spelling, it is, as it says here, a respectful term for corpse, in common language ro (རོ་). 

 

No. 22 shows two Llamas, who are offering up prayers and the hôn of sacrifice by fire, and are dressed the same as the deceased. They have in their hands the dril-bu or sacred bell.

Hôn has to be for Sanskrit homa, in Tibetan jinseg (སྦྱིན་བསྲེགས་). A normal term for cremation is roseg (རོ་བསྲེགས་). For the most accessible description of a Tibetan jinseg rite, see Beyer’s book, pp. 264-278, with its listing of burning materials (no. 23 just below) on pp. 271-272.

 

No. 23. These choptahs, or vessels of green sugar, etc., are burnt with the body.

These would be the usual homa offerings, each in its separate bowl, as they would be offered into the fire one at a time and in order, although green sugar is not among them to the best of my knowledge.

 

When, however, a man of high rank dies from smallpox, he is not burnt, but buried, and a tomb, as shown in No. 24 (Pûltun), built of stone, is erected over the spot.

I think the label Pûltun goes with No. 25, and not No. 24. What is actually depicted here is a ‘long stone’ or Doring (རྡོ་རིང་), with an inscription I cannot manage to read.

 

Should the sufferer from the same complaint have been of inferior rank, a small heap of stones only is made over his grave, as shown in No. 25.

I suggest that the label burtan (བུར་ཐན་) here transcribed as Pûltun, has to be read purtal (པུར་ཐལ་). The first is seriously meaningless (brown sugar drought?), while the latter means cremation ash.

 

No. 26, Rogum or Rokum (Gum means a coffin), represents a Chinaman’s body as laid in his coffin, with silver, gold, sugar, rice, etc. This coffin is then placed in a tomb, No. 27, called Gyamirôkung, the place assigned for the burial being Tubchitung, two miles outside Llassa.

Rogam (རོ་སྒམ་) is the word for coffin, literally corpse box. But Gyamirôkung is for Gyami Rokhang (རྒྱ་མི་རོ་ཁང་), or Chinese mausoleums. I could not identify the place Tubchitung. Now I suppose as Lange (p. 106) tells us, it’s Drapchi Tang (གྲྭ་བཞི་ཐང་), originally the site of an army garrison, and more lately an infamous prison (གྲྭ་བཞི་བཙོན་ཁང་); see Lange’s book, p. 106.

 

No. 28 shows a chief mourner, dressed in white, which is the colour of Chinese mourning. The other relations are not always clad in mourning, but all put on a linen or cotton turban, setting their ordinary caps on one side, which, however, all except the chief mourner resume when leaving the tomb.

No 29 is the Washun or Chinese priest.

The usual spelling is Hoshang, in Tibetan, Hashang (ཧྭ་ཤང་).

 

No. 30 are Shôkpâ, or fireworks, which are lighted and fired three times, when the mourners prostrate themselves nine times.

After seven days have elapsed, they again visit the tomb, when the same ceremony is performed. [p. 34]

The modern Tibetan word for firecracker ought, according to Goldstein’s dictionary, be shogpa (ཤོག་པག), a word I cannot explain unless it means paper brick, although I suspect it to be a modern borrowing. If you need convincing that fireworks are used at Chinese funerals, as on other special occasions, see this whole set of videos on YouTube.

 

At no. 31 are represented dishes of sweetmeats, of which, after the fireworks and the nine prostrations, the mourners partake, and then return to their homes.

No. 32 shows Tchûchintôrma, a ceremony in which in one basin are placed little bits of flour paste rolled up, called torma; and in another water (tchû), with which these little pieces of paste are put. Chin, “offering,” completes the work.

The Llama is supposed to be offering these to the Idâk, or bad spirits aforementioned as inhabiting the place mentioned in Red Road No. 5. These Idâk have, as aforesaid, large heads, small necks, and large bellies never to be satisfied.

In Sanskrit the word Idâk is called Prêtâ, which means a departed soul, spirit of the dead, ghost, or evil spirit.

Tchûchintôrma is in the label chujin torma (ཆུ་སྦྱིན་གཏོར་མ་).

Idâk is Yidag (ཡི་དྭགས་), or in Sanskrit Preta. It usually means one of the five or six states of rebirth known to Buddhism, and they are quite accurately described as having thin necks, enormous stomachs, making them constantly hungry, while liquids that pass their lips turn into fire, making them permanently parched. However, particularly in context of the water offering rites (ཆུ་སྦྱིན་), the term can in practice cover the a much wider range range of spirit beings. For more discussion, see this recent two-part blog, where you will also find discussion of the ritual implements portrayed in the drawing: the pitcher, the basin, and the chalice.

 

So far the Llama describes the different methods of the disposal of dead bodies in Llassa as observed by the Thibetans and Chinese.


[An excursus on embalming follows, although it is not depicted. On Tibetan embalming practices, see Uebach’s essay. I cannot explain what Chîn Chut ought to be in proper spelling]

There is, however, one other method of preserving the dead bodies of their highest Llamas.

The first process is to cover up the body in salt, which dissolves and becomes absorbed in the flesh ; this process is repeated two or three times. When a sufficient quantity has been absorbed to preserve the body, it is taken out, the limbs relaxed, and the body placed in a sitting attitude and clothed; the hands having been placed in a position called Chîn Chut. When the muscles of the face relax and the skin shrivels, wax is put in to fill up the cheeks to the natural size, and the body is preserved in a chorten as a mummy which can be seen at any time.

Note by Major Hay.—“No man can fail to remark how similar the altar is to that shown on the reverse of many Sassanian coins. It is probable their custom of burning the bodies of their kings was the same, and the attendants seem even to have the same kind of cap. The ancient Persians according to Herodotus and Strabo, exposed their dead to be devoured by vultures. It should, however, be remarked that the bodies of the old monarchs of Persia were interred, not burnt, which would have been contrary to the laws of [p. 35] Zoroaster, as tending to desecrate the sacred element—fire; nor were they previously exposed to be devoured by animals, as was prescribed by the precept of the Magi, with whom the dog was a sacred animal.”

In continuation of the above, as the subject is of one of interest, I subjoin a few extracts from Rollin’s Ancient History, and other sources relative to the subject.

The ancient Persians, we are told by Herodotus, did not erect funeral piles for the dead or consume their bodies in the flames.

“Accordingly we find that Cyrus,*1 when he was at the point of death, took care to charge his children to inter his body and to restore it to the earth; that is the expression he makes use of : by which he seems to declare, that he looked upon the earth as the original parent from whence he sprang, to which he ought to return. And when Cambyses had offered a thousand indignities to the dead body of Amasis,*2 king of Egypt, he thought he crowned all by causing it to be burnt, which was equally contrary to the Egyptian and Persian manner of treating their dead. It was the custom of the latter to wrap up their dead in wax, in order to keep them longer from corruption.”

Cicero says, Tuscul. Quaest., lib. i., p. 108 :

“Condiunt Egyptii mortuos, et eos domi servant: Persae jam cerâ circumlitos condiunt, ut quam maxime permaneant diuturna corpora.”

Major Hay, in his report on the Spiti Valley, written in 1850, tells us that incremation is the ordinary method of disposing of the dead in Spiti. Their ashes are thrown into the nearest running stream, the spot where the body was burnt plastered over with cowdung, and an urn put up.

I have repeatedly seen these urns in Kurnawur, and always supposed them to contain the ashes, and I was informed that such was the case. Those dying of smallpox were not burned, but buried ; and I have also seen the heaps of stones which had been placed over the grave, but curiously enough during the months that I was in the country I never witnessed a funeral or incremation.

*1 Cyrop., 1. viii., p. 238.  *2 Herod., 1. iii., c. 16.

 

• END •


References & Selective Readings

Stephan Beyer, The Cult of Tārā: Magic and Ritual in Tibet, University of California Press (Berkeley 1973).

Martin Brauen, “Death Customs in Ladakh,” Kailash, vol. 9, no. 4 (1982), pp. 319-332.

John Bray, “Early Protestant Missionary Engagement with the Himalayas and Tibet,” contained in: J. Bray, ed., Ladakhi Histories: Local & Regional Perspectives, Brill (Leiden 2005), pp. 249-270.  

Erberto Lo Bue, “Notes on Sky-Burial in Indian, Chinese and Nepalese Tibet,” contained in: John Bray & Elena de Rossi Filibeck, eds., Mountains, Monasteries and Mosques (Pisa 2009), pp. 221-237.

Chogay Trichen Thubten Legshay Gyatsho (བཅོ་བརྒྱད་ཁྲི་ཆེན་ཐུབ་བསྟན་ལེགས་བཤད་རྒྱ་མཚོ་), Gateway to the Temple: Manual of Tibetan Monastic Customs, Art, Building and Celebrations, tr. by David Paul Jackson, Ratna Pustak Bhandar (Kathmandu 1979), particularly the two fold-out illustrations following its p. 88 (the final page of the book). A new edition, with new illustrations, has been published quite recently.

Bryan J. Cuevas and Jacqueline I. Stone, eds., The Buddhist Dead: Practices, Discourses, Representations, Kuroda Institute Studies in East Asia Buddhism no. 20, University of Hawai’i Press (Honolulu 2007). The essays by Cuevas, Kapstein and Schaeffer are the Tibet-related ones.

Bryan J. Cuevas, The Hidden History of the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Oxford University Press (Oxford 2003).

Sarat Chandra Das, “Description of a Tibetan Funeral,” Journal of the Buddhist Text & Anthropological Society, vol. 5, pt. 2 (1897), pp. 1-4.

——, Journey to Lhasa and Central Tibet, ed. by W.W. Rockhill, E.P. Dutton & Co. (New York 1902), p. 63, second footnote (written by William Rockwell, it strays off in such odd directions, to fix it is rather hopeless I suppose):

“Our author says their name is written Rogyo-pa, meaning "corpse-vulture." According to Jaeschke, the "vulture" is go-vo, while ro means "corpse." Further on (p. 163) S. C. D. calls them ragyabas, and tells us that their houses (at Lhasa at all events) must have walls made of horns. From the fact that "horn" in Tibetan is ra-cho, we might suppose that the name of this class of people is Ra-cho-pa, ''the horny ones." I have never met with the name in writing.—(W. R.)”

Elsewhere in the same book are quite a few interesting observations about funerary practices that would merit more attention than this one.

W.Y. Evans-Wentz, The Tibetan Book of the Dead, translations by Kazi Dawa Samdup, Oxford University Press (London 1957), the 3rd edition of the book first published in 1927. 

Margaret Gouin, Tibetan Rituals of Death: Buddhist Funerary Practices, Routledge (London 2010). Much recommended as the author has done considerable research bringing together a large number of disparate sources.

Gyurme Dorje, tr., The Tibetan Book of the Dead, ed. by Graham Coleman with Thupten Jinpa, Viking (New York 2006). Unfortunately Viking didn’t use acid-free paper, so this book will crumble to dust in another 20 years.

Charles Horne, “On the Methods of Disposing of the Dead at Llassa, Thibet, etc.,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, new series vol. 6 (1872-1873), pp. 28-35, with unnumbered illustration pages (two pages, each containing two plates).

Abbé Huc and Gabet, Travels in Tartary Thibet and China 1844-1846, tr. by William Hazlitt, ed. with an Introduction by Paul Pelliot, Harper & Brothers (New York 1928), vol. 2, pp. 251-252 for the passage on dogs and their role in Lha-Ssa funerals, and the quotes from Strabo, Cicero and Justin are to be found there in a footnote. My copy of the book is signed and dated Gale C. Griswold / Jan 2, 1934.

Siegbert Hummel, “An Unusual Tibetan Depiction of the Bar-do concerning the Events before Rebirth,” Tibet Journal, vol. 31, no. 4 (Winter 2006), pp. 47-56.

——, “Die Leichenbestattung in Tibet,” Monumenta Serica, vol. 20 (1961), pp. 266-281.

——, “Strafen und Torturen der Tibeter: Beitrage zur tibetischen Rechtspflege,” Geographica Helvetica: Schweizerische Zeitschrift für Geographie, vol. 12 (1957), pp. 93-102. Hummel says he got this set of torture depictions, with Tibetan labels, from the Moravian missionary M. Ribbach. Ribbach commissioned them from a Tibetan artist with the apparent aim of eventually publishing them even if this never happened before Hummel’s article. It is very clear to me that their artist is identical to the one who made our death ritual drawings, and I defer to and concur with Diana Lange’s assessment. See her book at p. 34 for a superior photo of the still-preserved original drawings, with penciled-in comments by Jäschke!

——, “Zum Ursprung der Totengerichts- und Höllen-vorstellungen bei den Tibetern,” Zeitschrift für Missionswissenschaft und Religions-wissenschaft, vol. 42, no. 1 (1958), pp. 48-55.  Egyptian connections in judgment of the dead & portrayal of hell, bar-do (the monkey by the scales; see also in Tibet Journal, vol. 22, no. 4 [Winter 1997], p. 44).

Heinrich August Jäschke, A Tibetan-English Dictionary, Routledge & Kegan Paul (London 1972), reprint of the 1881 edition.

Diana Lange, An Atlas of the Himalayas by a 19th Century Tibetan Lama: A Journey of Discovery, Brill (Leiden 2020).  I didn't have access to this publication when I started making my blog. But particularly relevant is “8.6 Disposing of the Dead at Lhasa,” found on pp. 91-107. Here you may find an analysis of the drawings published by Horne, with some explanations that differ from those I have offered, while on many points we are in agreement. If you are curious about this, I recommend reading Lange’s book for yourself.

——, “The Wise Collection: Acquiring Knowledge on Tibet in the late 1850s.” A web publication, or blog, posted at the British Library's website on July 18, 2016.  I offer this as a quickly accessible piece on the subject for those who cannot so easily obtain the book.

Pamela Logan, Survival and Evolution of Sky Burial Practices” (posted on May 16, 2021). Of all the accounts of sky burial out on the internet, this has to be the most interesting one, and that’s why I send you to the link. 

Roller MaMing, Li Lee, Xiamin Yang, and Paul Buzzard, “Vultures and Sky Burials on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau,” Vulture News, no. 71 (November 2016), pp. 22-35. At first I thought Paul Buzzard was a name invented with tongue in cheek, but no, it’s a real one. The concern of these ornithologists is with the bird, so the historical-cultural research is thin. Still, the full-color photographs are well worth seeing if you haven’t.  http://dx.doi.org/10.4314/vulnew.v71i1.2.

Dan Martin, “On the Cultural Ecology of Sky Burial on the Himalayan Plateau,” East and West, vol. 46, nos. 3-4 (December 1996), pp. 353-370. Available from JSTOR through a subscribing institution, or just download it from here.

Ngag-dbang-rnam-rgyal, “Rags-stobs sam Rags-rgyab-pa'i Spyi-tshogs Gnas-babs Skor,” contained in: Bod-kyi Dmangs-srol Gces-btus, compiled by the editors of the journal Spang-rgyan Me-tog, Mi-rig Dpe-skrun-khang (Beijing 1999), vol. 1, pp. 75-81. The title might translate, “About the Social Conditions of the Ragtob or Ragyabpa [Community in Lhasa].”

Samuel H. Ribbach, Culture and Society in Ladakh, tr. by John Bray, Ess Ess Publications (New Delhi 1986). This is an English translation of the original German book Drogpa Namgyal. Ein Tibeterleben, Otto Wilhelm Barth, München Planegg (Munich 1940). The author was a missionary in Ladakh from 1892 to 1913.  See in particular the two drawings included among the plates inserted between pages 176-177.

Veronika Ronge, “The Corpse Cutters of Sera,” Tibet Journal, vol. 29, no. 2 (Summer 2004), pp. 3-12. The original German of 1989 was translated by Guido Vogliotti.

Per Sørensen, “Lhasa Diluvium, Sacred Environment at Stake: The Birth of Flood Control Politics, the Question of Natural Disaster Management and their Importance for the Hegemony over a National Monument in Tibet,”  Lungta, vol. 16 (Spring 2003), pp. 84-134. If you need to know more about the history of the Lhasa dike, this would be your first, and quite possibly your only, place to look.

Heather Stoddard, “Eat it up or throw it to the dogs?  Dge ’dun chos ’phel (1903-1951) Ma cig Lab sgron (1055-1153) and Pha dam pa Sangs rgyas (d. 1117): A Ramble through the Burial Grounds of Ordinary and ‘Holy’ Beings in Tibet,” contained in: S. Jacoby & A. Terrone, Buddhism Beyond the Monastery, Brill (Leiden 2009), pp. 9-35.

Richard Carnac Temple, “Disposal of the Dead by Exposure,” Indian Antiquary, vol. 52 (1923), p. 185.

——, “Disposal of the Deceased Lamas in Eastern Tibet and the Mummifying of Bodies in China,” Indian Antiquary, vol. 53 (1924), p. 41.

Helga Uebach, “A Short Treatise by Pha bong kha pa (1878-1941) about Embalming,” Tibet Journal, vol. 30, no. 2 (Summer 2005), pp. 3-8.  

Turrell V. Wylie, “Mortuary Customs at Sa-skya, Tibet,” Harvard Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 25 (1964-1965), pp. 229-242.  Despite the title, this does include a general discussion of the history of corpse disposal methods in Tibet. He finds that burials (of kings) was the norm in early Tibet, and that neither cremation nor exposure to vultures can be found there prior to the Second Spread (late 10th century).


Photo of Ragyabpa homes
with thanks to  Bryan Cuevas for suggesting it