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In a talk to Western monks and nuns in Dharamsala, May 1982, Lama Zopa Rinpoche spoke about
his first meeting with Lama.

Lama and Rinpoche at Lawudo. 1970

Maybe I will tell you the story of how I met Lama Yeshe. It’s a very funny story. After my two alphabet teachers I was taught by the abbot who granted me getsul ordination. He passed away at the same time as the Chinese invaded Tibet. Following him, I was taught by Geshe Rabten Rinpoche, whose kindness is responsible for whatever interest in meditation practice I now have.


At Buxa, Geshe Rabten taught on shunyata and samatha meditation, and even though I was very small I was interested. I tried to do samatha meditation on my bed after the mosquito net was put on it. I used to meditate on the silver cover of my Tibetan tea bowl, even though I didn’t know how. When they brought me from Tibet to India I tried to meditate one-pointedly. I fell down! I don’t know what happened; my whole body fell completely. It happened several times and eventually I gave up. Anyway, in that house there might have been a small impression from a past life. So that is how I have some interest in lam rim, more than in meditation practice.

Originally by the kindness of Geshe Rabten, I recognized my root guru. Anyway, after this Geshe Rabten was very busy and sent me to another teacher from Kham whose name was also Yeshe. From this teacher I received the meditation and visualization on Ganden Lha Gyama, the kindness of mother sentient beings from the part of the Prajnaparamita scriptures dealing with that subject. There was no text so my teacher Yeshe had to say it by heart. I hadn’t learned Tibetan writing in Tibet, just studied it myself so that I could read, and so I copied everything down. Then this teacher Yeshe wanted to lead a different life, so he left Buxa to wander around and stay in different places in India.

Then Geshe Rabten had me taught by another geshe who is not here now, and teachings from a Tibetan monk, Geshe Thubten. I was happy to have teachings from the geshe, but somehow I was reluctant to go and receive teachings from Lama Yeshe.

There was a monk in my class who most people know as Chomphel—he was Kopan’s cook for many years. Along with Lama Pasang and other Tibetan monks, he was taking teachings from Lama Yeshe. At that stage I was only receiving teachings from Geshe Rabten and then only when he wasn’t busy, as he had many disciples and had to teach many different texts to different classes.

At that time Chomphel used to be the leader of my class and he kept pushing me to go and take teachings from Lama Yeshe. He used to go outside for a walk, for relaxation, and one day we started to walk outside the camp, but I didn’t take anything; I had no offering. When we came to the mango tree where there used to be seats, I said “I want to go back,” but he pushed, so I went a little bit further.

It is clear that all happiness of the past
present and future depends on the guru.

I stopped again and again, saying, “No, I don’t want to go,” but he kept pushing me. It was quite far to where Lama Yeshe lived on the mountain, about half an hour or an hour’s walk, depending on how fast you walked.

Even when we reached the hut I wanted to retreat. I had brought no offerings, which was partly the reason for wanting to go back. When you first make contact with the guru it is very important to perform the offerings correctly. How many teachings you receive depends on that. So much depends on that, as you know from the stories of Milarepa. For this reason I didn’t receive many teachings at Buxa.

Chomphel had brought a bowl with some rice and a few rupees, together with a very poor, old offering scarf. He went in first to ask if Lama Yeshe would receive me. I think Lama Yeshe asked, “Have you received permission from Geshe Rabten?” and he replied “Yes.”

I had asked Geshe Rabten which teacher I should go to for teachings, but he didn’t say which one. He was a very skillful teacher, knowing exactly what was best for the disciple. I could feel what he had in mind and he said it didn’t matter what one learned.

On my first day I sat on the same bed as Lama Yeshe because of having the name “incarnate,” something like that, and the others sat on the floor. The teaching was about cause and effect. I didn’t understand anything at all—I think because I went with a bad motivation. I thought, why couldn’t Lama Yeshe teach more slowly? Although the others could understand, I couldn’t.

Then on the second day I could understand a little better. I think that’s because I had been guided by Lama Yeshe in many lifetimes, just as you have. So, even though I had no strong wish, there was a strong force, karma, between Lama Yeshe and myself. So you see, there was definitely contact in past lives. He hasn’t only helped and guided me in this life, but he planted seeds in my mind in many past lifetimes. I think you can see in this clearly why all the happiness of the past, present and future depends on the guru.


Lama Zopa Rinpoche, FPMT’s spiritual director, is the reincarnation of the Nyingma yogi Kunsang Yeshe, the Lawudo Lama. Rinpoche was born in 1946 in Thami, not far from the cave Lawudo, in the Mount Everest region of Nepal, where his predecessor meditated for the last twenty years of his life.

From time to time whilst giving teachings at various centers around the world, Rinpoche would tell stories of his childhood: in Thami, then in Tibet, where he went when he was ten, and finally India, where he first met Lama Thubten Yeshe, with whom he would remain as heart disciple until Lama passed a way in 1984. Compiled and edited by Ven Ailsa Cameron. This article appeared in the November-December 1995 issue of Mandala.

Lama Zopa Rinpoche

I don’t remember what my father looked like. I think he died when my mother was carrying my brother, Sangye, and was a baby. People say that he had a beard and didn’t speak much; they describe him as a placid person who didn’t get upset very easily. I don’t know whether he was ever a monk, but I was told that he was very good at reading texts and doing pujas for other people.


My father was sick for some time before he died. One day after coming came back into the house from working in the field, my mother saw my father sitting quietly by the fireplace. She called to him, “Father, do you want anything?” but he did not reply. His body was upright; it is possible that he was in meditation, but I think my mother didn’t realize this. She went to tell her friends, but they didn’t know what to do. She should have asked a lama, but I think her understanding was quite limited. Her friends must have thought he was dead, so they told her to take the body outside and burn it.

My mother didn’t go to the cremation because it is not the Sherpa custom. I think is possible that my father was not actually dead when he was cremated, that his mind had not yet departed from his body. The people who burned the body told my mother, “He looks so alive. He doesn’t look dead.”

All I remember of my father are the clothes he left in the house. As very small children, my sister, brother and I would all sleep together at night in our father’s chuba, which was lined with animal fur. Sometimes we would say to each other, “This belonged to our father.”

When my father was alive, our family was a little better off than other families. We had many possessions, though according to Western standards of living we were probably only rich in garbage. However, after my father died, because my mother was in debt, our possessions were taken away by force. She had great difficulties, especially after I was born, when many of our animals—dris, goats and sheep—died.

My mother had to take care of all the work in the fields and then go to the forest to collect the firewood, which took many hours. Only my sister could help her. My brother and I just played in the field all day with stones and pieces of wood, coming back home when my mother shouted from the window that our food was ready.


I would sit a little way up the rock and pretend that I was giving initiations. I didn’t know any prayers, so I would just make some kind of noise and pretend I was praying.

When I was very small my best friend was a boy who could not speak. Every day we would play together. He and I liked to play games involving rituals. Near our house was a large rock with mantras carved into it. I would sit a little way up the rock and pretend that I was giving initiations, while the other boys had to try to take them. I didn’t know any prayers, so I would just make some kind of noise and pretend I was praying. (Actually, think I am still playing like that now.) We also pretended to do pujas. Some boys would imitate the sound of cymbals, while others would be the benefactors. We would mix earth and water on small flat stones and the benefactors would serve this as food to the other boys.

Because there were some rumors going around about my past life and because I had a strong wish to become a monk, when I was three or four years old my mother sent me to one of my uncles, a monk in the local Thami monastery, to learn the alphabet. I was carried there on someone’s back.

I was very naughty at that time and only wanted to play, so I wouldn’t stay in the monastery. My uncle used to teach me the alphabet outside in the courtyard in the sun, and when he went inside to the kitchen to cook our food I ran away to my mother’s house, which was very close to the monastery. I was very small and alone. Like most mountain children, I didn’t walk slowly, but like water falling I ran down to my mother’s house, never stopping to rest along the way. My mother would then scold me and send me back to the monastery. I escaped to my home quite a number of times.

Because of this, my mother sent me with another uncle to Rolwaling, in a much more secluded part of Solu Khumbu. I was carried there on top of the luggage. There is no way I could escape from Rolwaling to my home because you have to cross very steep and very dangerous snow mountains for two days. Sometimes when people were crossing the steep snow slopes, there would be an avalanche and all the people would disappear.

At one point, when I could write Tibetan letters by myself (we didn’t have pens, so we wrote on pieces of paper with charcoal), I wrote to my mother without my uncle knowing about it. I had a sneaky mind, so because I wanted to go home I told my mother that she must write to say that I should come back home. I gave the letter to someone who was traveling to Thami, but a funny thing happened. When he reached my mother’s place, he could not find the letter. He had carried it in his leather shoes, and he must have dropped it when he stopped along the way to shake the snow out of his shoes.

With my uncle teacher I went back and forth between Thami and Rolwaling three or four times. He carried me on his back and gave me food, which he had prepared before we left home. As we walked he passed the cooked meat and other food back to me. Only once was there an avalanche, a small one. The luggage was scattered all over the place and the people fell way down the slope, but they weren’t worried. They were singing songs when they came up to collect their things.

There was a very dangerous mountain with water running down it and rocks, huge and small, constantly falling. The huge rocks would come down wooroodoo! and the small rocks would drop tiiing! There were a lot of different noises. It was terrifying. I don’t know why, but every time we art we would stop and everyone would drink alcohol, the strongest one made from potatoes. The Sherpas make about thirteen different foods from potatoes, which is their main food, and one of the things they make is very strong alcohol. In Solu Khumbu it is the custom that most of the people, including many of the monks, drink alcohol, though there are some who do not drink.

So everybody would drink some alcohol, then generate heat by rubbing their hands together. They were then able to carry their huge loads across, usually two or three square butter tins, plus their food and blanket and things to sell. Just hoping that it would be all right, they crossed, climbing up through the water and rocks to the top. We went back and forth several times, and somehow no rocks fell while we were crossing. However, every time we were resting and drinking after reaching the top of the mountain on the other side, the rocks would come down woorooroo! Many times I thought, “Oh, somebody will be killed.” But every time, the rocks fell right after the last person had crossed. All the way across everybody recited whatever mantras they knew. The main sect in Solu Khumbu is Nyingmapa, so most of the people recited Padmasambhava’s mantra with single-pointed concentration.

I don’t remember what I did during that time, whether I recited any mantras or not, but I do remember that I was carried by my uncle. Of course, as soon as everybody reached the other side, where there was no danger, all the prayers stopped.

I lived for seven years in Rolwaling. Rolwaling Valley has a river running through it and mountains all around. On one side of the river was a monastery, with a gompa surrounded by other houses in which lived my uncle, then a fully ordained monk, and other married lamas, practitioners who did a lot of retreat but were not monks. There was also a large stupa on some flat ground with a road running through the middle of it.

On the other side of the river was a very nice grassy place where Western trekkers used to camp. In the summertime and in the autumn, tourists would come to Rolwaling—not all the time, just sometimes. Sherpa porters would guide them there and sometimes bring them to my teacher’s house, or sometimes we would go down to see them in their tents. Once or twice I went there to see them.

The bridge crossing the river to that spot was just two tree trunks tied together. You had to walk on that, and it wasn’t very wide. One day I went to give some potatoes to the Westerners in their camp—I don’t remember who they were. My teacher told me not to go, but I think I pushed him; somehow I really wanted to go to give the Westerners the potatoes. So, my teacher put some potatoes in a brass container used for eating rice or drinking chang, the local beer, and off I went, alone.


I fell into the water… My head came up, then went down again… the thought came into my mind, “Now what people call ‘Lawudo Lama’ is going to die.”

I walked onto the bridge. The river was quite wide and when I reached the middle of it, in my view the bridge tilted, and I fell into the water. My head came up, then went down again. According to what my teacher told me later, at first I was facing upriver, along by then later down river. I was carried along by the river, with my head coming up from time to time. All the time I was closer and closer to danger, to where river was very, very deep.

One time when my head came up, I saw my teacher running towards the river from the monastery, which was quite far away. There was some flat ground, then a huge mountain with the monastery a little way up it. I saw my teacher running down the mountain to the flat ground, holding up the simple cloth pants he was wearing.

At that time, the thought came into my mind, “Now what people call ‘Lawudo Lama’ is going to die. This is going to end.” I did not have much understanding of Dharma, and I had no idea of emptiness, but this thought just came. There was no fear. If death came now it would be difficult for me, but at that time my mind was completely comfortable. There was no fear at all—just the thought, “What people call ‘Lawudo Lama’ is going to die.”

I was about to reach very deep water where it would have been very difficult for my teacher to catch me, when he finally grabbed me and pulled me out. I was dripping wet. I’m not sure, but I think he said, “I told you not to go!” I think the fact that I fell into the water and dropped everything, the container and the potatoes, must be a shortcoming of not listening to my teacher. I later heard from some people who were watching that one of the Western tourists came with his camera and was taking pictures as I was being carried along by the water.

I stayed in Rolwaling seven years, memorizing prayers and reading texts, including all the many hundreds of volumes of the Buddha’s teachings, the Kangyur, and the commentaries by the Indian pandits, the Tengyur. Lay people would ask us to read these as a puja, so my teacher would read all day long. I don’t know how long they took to read—many months, I think. Sometimes I went outside to go to the toilet and would spend a lot of time out there, just hanging around. I didn’t return to the reading very quickly.

After seven years, when I was about ten, I went to Tibet with my two uncles. The reason for our journey was to visit another of my uncles, who was living at Pagri, a major trading center. First we walked from Rolwaling to Thami, then from Thami to Tashi Lhunpo Monastery, and finally to Pagri. I have an idea that the journey took us six months, walking every day. Because I was quite small, I didn’t have to carry anything; my uncles carried everything.

I spent seven days at Tashi Lhunpo, the Panchen Lama’s monastery, but from the time we left Solu Khumbu, my heart was set on going to study at the greatest Nyingma monastery in Tibet, Mindoling, because all the Sherpa monasteries are Nyingma. My plan was to go to this monastery and practice. There were many other monasteries along the way, but somehow I had no particular desire to live in them.

Earlier, when I was seven or eight years old, I had read Milarepa’s life-story three or four times, mainly to practice reading the Tibetan letters. Somehow at that time my mind was very clear, and I had a strong desire in my heart to be a really good practitioner by finding an infallible guru like Marpa, just as Milarepa had.

Ten year old Zopa Rinpoche in Pagri, Tibet in 1959 with Gyuto monk Ven Kelsang Tsering

At Tashi Lhunpo I met Gyaltsen, a Sherpa monk who was like a dopdop; he had a black shamtab covered with butter and always carried a long key. He didn’t seem to study or go to pujas, but mainly traveled back and forth between the monastery and the city. My two uncles were there with me, and one other Sherpa man.

We didn’t go to the pujas, but got into the line of monks to get the money when the pujas finished. I think Gyaltsen probably guided us. On the very last night before we were to leave, Gyaltsen insisted that I stay and become his disciple. I don’t think I had any sleep that whole night! I was wondering how I could escape from this because both my uncles agreed that I should stay there and become his disciple. But I had not the slightest desire to become his disciple, couldn’t think of how to escape, of what I could do the next day. Fortunately, the next morning, my uncles finally agreed that I should go with them to Pagri.

My two uncles, my uncle who lived in Pagri, and one of his relatives who was a nun, all went to Lhasa to visit the monasteries and make offerings. While they were away, I just wandered around Pagri, wearing an old red chuba and an old hat. Somehow I had the karma to become a monk because one day, outside my uncle s house, I met a tall monk who was the manager of one of Demo Geshe’s monasteries. It must be due to some past karma that he immediately asked me, “Do you want to be my student?” and I said, “Yes, okay.” I asked him, “Can you be like Marpa?” and he said, “Yes.”

Because my uncles were away he talked to my uncle’s wife, and she accepted his suggestion. The next day she made a thermos of tea, filled a Bhutanese container made of woven bamboo with round breads (she made very good Tibetan bread, served with a lot of butter) and took me to the monastery where the manager lived, just a few minutes walk from where we were living.

When my uncles returned from Lhasa, they wanted me to go back with them to Solu Khumbu. I said that I wouldn’t go back. My second uncle, the one with whom I spent seven years, was very kind—although at that time, I didn’t know he was being kind. He beat me.

When I rejected the idea of going back, my other uncle—the one who lived in Tibet and was a businessman—brought out a whole set of new robes with brocade, which he had bought in Lhasa, horse decorations everything! He piled everything up and said: “If you go back to Solu Khumbu I will give you all these things; otherwise you won’t get anything.” Somehow I didn’t have much interest in those kind of things at that time. I don’t remember having any strong attraction to the things he was going to give me if I agreed to go to Solu Khumbu.

Because I rejected the idea of going back to Solu Khumbu, my manager went to check with one of the most powerful men in that area, a secretary to one very rich and famous family, great benefactors of Demo Geshe Rinpoche’s monastery. When my manager asked his point of view, the secretary said that I should be sent back to Solu Khumbu.

I then had to go before the district judge. Before the court case I was locked inside a very dark shrine room. The local benefactors actually thought I had been locked inside a cowshed; the ladies who knew me would visit me and push sweets and other things for me to eat into the room through a small hole.

The district judge arrived and I was called in front of him, naked (I don’t know why I was naked—I’ve forgotten that part of the story), and because the shrine room where I was kept was very dark and very, very cold, my whole body was shaking. The judge said that I had the right to make my own decision as to whether to stay or go.

So I spent three years in Pagri, doing pujas in people’s houses every day, and I took getsul ordination there in the monastery of Demo Geshe Rinpoche, who is regarded as an embodiment of Lama Tsongkhapa. I wasn’t a monk before that. I saw many monasteries, but somehow because of my karma, I became a monk only in that Gelugpa monastery.

In March 1959, the Chinese took over Tibet, but because that area is close to India, there was no immediate danger. Later that year I was instructed to do my first retreat, on Lama Tsongkhapa Guru Yoga, at a nearby monastery called Pema Chöling, a branch of Demo Geshe’s monastery. I didn’t know anything about the meditation; I just recited the prayer and some Migtsemas. I think I finished the retreat, but I don’t know how I did it or what mantras I counted.

At the end of 1959, when the threat of torture was imminent, we decided to escape to India. One day we heard that the Chinese would come to Pema Choling in two days. That same night we very secretly left. We had to cross only one mountain to reach Bhutan. One night, because it was very wet and we could not see the road clearly, we had a little trouble, sinking into the mud and slipping over. There were nomads at the border. If they had seen us, it would have been difficult to escape because we had heard that some of them were spies, but even though their dogs were barking, the nomads did not come out of their tents.

Eventually we reached India. We went to Buxa Duar, in the north, where the Indian Government housed the monks from Sera, Ganden and Drepung Monasteries who wanted to continue their studies, along with monks from the other sects. All the four sects were put together in that one place. During the time of the British, Buxa was used as a concentration camp, with both Mahatma Gandhi and Nehru being imprisoned there. Where Mahatma Gandhi had been imprisoned became the nunnery, and where Nehru had been imprisoned became Sera Monastery’s prayer hall.

Because there was a branch of Demo Geshe’s monastery in Darjeeling, my plan was to go there. However, the head policeman at Buxa sent all the other monks in my group to Darjeeling, but for some reason stopped me. He said one other monk should stay with me in Buxa. It was because this policeman didn’t allow me to go to Darjeeling that I came to study there at Buxa. I don’t know why he stopped me from going to Darjeeling—it wasn’t because he received a bribe.

At Buxa I, as well as many other monks, caught tuberculosis because of the poor conditions and climate. I was invited to Delhi by the second British nun, who was called Frida Bedi (the first English nun died in Darjeeling). She visited Buxa, where all the monks lived together, and she visited especially all the incarnate lamas. She invited many of the incarnate lamas to a school she had started to teach them English. Hindi was also taught, but I think her main aim was to teach English.

I spent six months in Delhi, and it was at that time that I developed TB. First I caught small pox and had to stay fifteen days in the small pox hospital, which was very far from the school. When I came back, I got TB, and then went to the TB hospital. I cried three days in that hospital. The reason I cried was that there was no opportunity to learn English. At that time I somehow had a great ambition to learn English, so cried for three days and wouldn’t speak to anyone, not even the Indian boys staying in the same ward.

When I went into hospital, I had to change into hospital clothes, pants and a shirt. In the break-times, I would go outside, where I could see the passing traffic through the fence. I would stretch my legs towards the fence, put my English book between my legs, and then I would cry. The Indian boys would gather around and tell me, “Lama, don’t cry. Don’t be upset!” but I didn’t speak to them for three days.

In the old men’s ward I met one very nice Indian man, who agreed to teach me English. I had a book that contained normal conversational English, given to me by Thubten Tsering, His Holiness Ling Rinpoche’s secretary. I liked this book and I used to go to see this Indian man in his bedroom and learn some of the words. Then I got better.

I stayed six months in Delhi then at the end had to do an English examination. They also arranged for us to have an interview with the Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. He was very, very old and his skin was kind of blue. He was lying down, but on a kind of chair, not on a bed.

I then returned to Buxa to continue to study. I did a little debating, but more like playing. Unfortunately I don’t think I have created much karma to study whole texts. I have received teachings on some of the philosophical texts, so some imprints have been left on my mind.


At that time I think I spent more time learning English, but in a useless way, because I tried to collect and memorize English words the way we the whole dictionary by heart.

At that time I think I spent more time learning English, but in a useless way, because I tried to collect and memorize English words the way we learn Tibetan texts. I once thought to learn the whole dictionary by heart. The Tibetan way of learning involves a lot of memorization, so believed that if I memorized a lot of words, it would be okay. I didn’t know that you have to concentrate on the accent and train in speaking. In any case there was no opportunity to practice in Buxa, apart from using a few words if you met some Indian officials. I memorized many, many words from different books, and all the Time magazines. I would forget and then memorize them again, forget and memorize again, forget and memorize again, just as with the Tibetan texts. I spent a lot of time doing this but it was useless; it wasn’t the way to learn English.

At Buxa I was taught by Geshe Rabten Rinpoche, whose kindness is responsible for whatever interest in meditation practice I now have. An it is because of the kindness of Geshe Rabten that I recognized my root guru [Kyabje Trijang Rinpoche].

Geshe Rabten taught on emptiness and samatha meditation, and even though I was very small I was interested. I tried to meditate on my bed after the mosquito net had been put down. I used to meditate on the silver cover of my Tibetan tea bowl, even though I didn’t know how. I tried to meditate one-pointedly, but I fell down! I don’t know what happened; my whole body fell completely. It happened several times and eventually I gave up. Anyway, in that house there might have been a small impression from a past life. This is why I have some interest In lam-rim, more than in meditation practice.

Anyway, after this Geshe Rabten was very busy and sent me to another teacher from Kham whose name was Yeshe. From this teacher I received the meditation and visualization on Ganden Lha Gyema, and on the kindness of mother sentient beings from the part of the Prajnaparamita scriptures dealing with that subject. There was no text so the teacher Yeshe had to say it by heart. I hadn’t learned Tibetan writing in Tibet, just studied it myself so that I could read, and so I copied everything down. Then this teacher Yeshe wanted to lead a different life, so he left Buxa to wander around and stay in various places in India.




Queridos amigos,


Con mucha alegría comparto con ustedes las hermosas palabras que Su Santidad el Dalai Lama dijo acerca de Rimpoché y la FPMT, al terminar las enseñanzas que Su Santidad dio en Sarnath, India, del 19 al 22 de diciembre, las cuales fueron organizadas en conjunto con la FPMT.


Que disfruten de la foto que tomó el Ven. Roger Kunsang durante la audiencia que tuvo Rimpoché con Su Santidad.



Su Santidad el Dalai Lama dijo unas palabras después de que Lama Zopa Rimpoché leyera unas alabanzas describiendo las acciones de Su Santidad, desde su renacimiento, hasta el presente, y solicitó a Su Santidad que tuviera una larga vida y continuara con sus actividades.


“Aquí Rimpoché ha ofrecido algunas palabras de alabanzas y súplicas, siete páginas en total. Aunque una de ellas viene en blanco ( risas). Debido a que no logré entender todo lo que Rimpoché dijo, le solicité que las trajera aquí con la idea de leerlas después.

Rimpoché es alguien que sinceramente sigue mi guía, de manera expansiva y confiando al cien por ciento en ella. Tiene una fe inamovible y un samaya puro; no solamente tiene un samaya puro y fe, sino que cualquier instrucción que le doy a Zopa Rimpoché, tiene la capacidad de lograrla. Por lo tanto, cualquier dedicación que Lama Zopa Rimpoché haga, yo también pido por que se lleven a cabo con éxito y los invito a que ustedes hagan lo mismo. Entre los participantes, hay muchas personas laicas y ordenadas, de distintas razas, todos reunidos aquí. Todos somos iguales en el sentido de que estamos inspirados por las bondadosas enseñanzas del Buda y compartimos el deseo de querer practicarlas lo más que podamos. Con estos pensamientos, estamos aquí reunidos el día de hoy. Estoy seguro de que con la fuerza de la fe y la confianza, si hacemos oraciones, habrá beneficios.

Las enseñanzas del Buda están ahora pasando del siglo XX al siglo XXI. Y a nivel general, las enseñanzas del Buda, es especial la tradición de los grandes panditas de Nalanda, tal y como la preservaron los habitantes de la Tierra de las Nieves, están siendo conocidas por otros a lo largo del mundo. En este punto, se está reconociendo cada vez más que esta es una tradición única debido a que aporta muchos beneficios y a que está basada en el razonamiento.

En estos momentos, no tengo la habilidad de poder hacer mucho, pero debido a que soy un simple monje que sigue las enseñanzas del Buda, siempre intento generar la motivación de poder ser del mayor beneficio a otros, mientras exista el espacio. Particularmente, debido a que muchas personas confían en mi, mientras más viva, más podré ser de beneficio en un sentido práctico, por lo tanto es por eso que hago oraciones para poder vivir una larga vida.


Debido a que Rimpoché hizo oraciones de dedicación, yo también hago oraciones para que estas se cumplan y los invito a que hagan lo mismo. Es muy importante que todos actuemos con sinceridad, sin ser deshonestos y con una gran visión, poniendo el mayor esfuerzo y determinación posibles, no solo repitiendo simples palabras y actuando solamente cuando es conveniente. Mientras que nuestras actividades sean de beneficio para otros, debemos poner esfuerzo en ellas.


Debido a que Rimpoché ha agregados muchas palabras, necesito leer esto con libertad – ya que no hay forma de que lo pueda leer de inmediato. Así que voy a leerlo con tranquilidad Rimpoché ( se torna hacia Rimpoché y se ríe).

Quisiera agradecer a todas las personas que trabajan en la organización de Rimpoché. De hecho tendremos una reunión breve más tarde, pero todos ustedes han estado trabajando muy duro hasta el día de hoy. Y me gustaría pedirles que continúen haciéndolo. Rimpoché trabaja con tal determinación y una gran sinceridad en servicio de las enseñanzas del Buda y de todos los seres, así que es importante que todos combinemos nuestros esfuerzos. Por ahora no tengo algo más en especial que agregar.”

Trascrito y editado por Ven. Thubten Labdron.


His Holiness the Dalai Lama said the following about Rinpoche and FPMT at the end of His teachings in Sarnath, India (Dec 19 -22nd, 2006).  The teaching event was co-sponsored by FPMT.

Please enjoy the photo, taken by Ven Roger Kunsang during Rinpoche’s audience with His Holiness.

His Holiness the Dalai Lama speaking after Lama Zopa Rinpoche read praises describing His Holiness’s deeds from taking rebirth to the present, and requested His Holiness to have long life and continue His activities. 

Here Rinpoche has offered some words of praise and requests, seven pages in all. One page was blank (laughs). I didn’t understand all of what Rinpoche said so I asked him to bring it here, thinking to read it later.

Rinpoche is someone who follows my guidance sincerely, very expansively and with one hundred percent trust. He possesses unwavering faith and pure samaya; not only has he pure samaya and faith but whatever I instruct, Zopa Rinpoche has the capability to accomplish it. So whatever dedications Lama Zopa Rinpoche makes I also pray to accomplish this and you should do the same thing. Here among the listeners there are many lay and ordained people and people of different races gathered together. We are all the same in being inspired by the kind Buddha’s teachings and in wishing to practice as much as we can. With such thoughts we are gathered here today. I am sure with this unifying force of faith and trust, if we pray there will be benefits.

The Buddha’s teaching is now heading from the 20th into the 21st century. Generally, Buddha’s teachings and especially the tradition of the great Nalanda pandits, as preserved by the people of the Land of Snow, are starting to be realized by others, throughout the world. At this time it is becoming more and more recognized that this is a unique tradition in having many benefits supported by reasoning.

At this time, I have no ability to do much but as I am a simple monk following the Buddha I always generate the motivation to benefit others as much as I can, for as long as space remains. Particularly, as there are many people who rely on me, the longer I live the more I can practically benefit, so I pray to live long.

As Rinpoche made dedication prayers I also pray to accomplish such, and you also do the same. It’s very important that we all act with non-duplicitous sincerity and great vision, putting as much determined effort as we can, not just saying mere words and acting only when it’s convenient. As long as our activities are beneficial to others we must put effort into them.

Rinpoche has inserted many extra words so I need to read this at leisure – there is no way I can read it immediately. Rinpoche, I am going to read it in a relaxed way (turns to Rinpoche and laughs).

I would like to thank all the people working in Rinpoche’s organization. Actually we will have a brief meeting later on but you all are working very hard until now. I would like to request you to continue. Rinpoche works with such determination and great sincerity in the service of Buddha’s teachings and sentient beings, it’s important that we all combine our efforts. Other than that I have nothing special to say.

–His Holiness the Dalai Lama
Transcribed and edited by Ven Thubten Labdron.