Chapter 8: Interdependence

No Man is an Island

One of the key concepts emphasized by the Buddhists is interdependence – the idea that all things are mutually dependent on each other and that everything is connected to everything else. I remember embracing a version of this idea in high school when we read Tennyson’s poem “Flower in the Crannied Wall.” I was transported to a vaster awareness as I read, “Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, little flower – but if I could understand what you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.” Again when I first heard of holograms and the idea that the part contains the whole, my mind was uplifted and expanded.

Although the concept is somewhat tangential, I got the same feeling on encountering the work of Byron Katie and her definition of God as simply all that is. The title of her book Loving What Is sums it up very elegantly. It combines the compassion aspect – Loving – with the wisdom aspect – What Is. In holding all that is with love, one can never fixate on a part of the whole and leave anything out of one’s loving embrace. Using the three little words as a kind of motto, I am always led to consider all phenomena as connected to the whole.

A Philosophy of Interdependence

Once a year at the gonpa, Khentrul Rinpoche would lead a month long shedra, or philosophical school. We spent all day listening to teachings on ancient scriptures. It was often difficult because it was dry, academic, and full of polemical points, but I enjoyed Rinpoche’s presence and also being exposed to the philosophy. I was particularly impressed with the month long shedra on Nagarjuna’s Introduction to the Middle Way, an exposition on the philosophy of madhyamika prasangika.

Although it was very complex and detailed, the essence I gleaned was that reality is the union of absolute and relative reality - the union of wisdom and appearance - or in the language of Kashmir Shaivism, the union of Shiva and Shakti.

The vast majority of the text is devoted to proving that all manifest things have no absolute reality. This is done by disproving all the other positions and the then-current philosophical approaches. The many arguments are very difficult to follow and they really gave my intellect a workout. I often became impatient when they seemed dated and political. It was a stretch to find relevance to a western 21st century outlook.

The outstanding point came at the end, when the text described absolute and relative reality, saying that there is nothing to be said about relative reality, other than that it is characterized by impermanence and by interdependence. This philosophy has no argument with relative reality. It is just accepted as it is. It is real as appearance. It is as it is. As I tried this on, it felt very peaceful and full of loving acceptance.

Then, at the very end, the text quietly states that there is no separation between the two. Relative reality is a manifestation of the absolute and is thus one with it. Aha!! It seemed to me that there was a lot of argument to arrive finally at the conclusion that there is no problem. Although the process and arguments were tedious, I loved the conclusion.

In relative reality, everything is interconnected. There is no beginning or end - just changes in form and appearance. That is the nature of the phenomenal world. Things are born, are sustained and then die. There is constant change of form. It applies to humans, animals, cultures, ideas, planets, suns, solar systems, and universes. All exist in Awareness and as Awareness. From this perspective, there is no creation, no creator, no emergence of consciousness out of materiality.

While in graduate school as a teaching fellow in anthropology, I had secretly begun to harbor doubts about Darwinism as it was taught. I had begun to believe a tiny bit along the lines of creationism. As an anthropologist, this would have been considered the most outrageous heresy, so I kept it to myself. While studying Buddhist philosophy, I discovered that their ideas solved the problem.

I took the position of the middle way that things are as they are. The timelessness aspect is the absolute reality and the time-oriented or evolutionary aspect is the relative reality. My doubts about Darwinian evolution were really a yearning for a description of absolute reality, or timelessness which I had found hints of in some of the creationist ideas.

The Western Mind

As I began to focus on my own mind and attempt to hold fleeting moments of Awareness, it was much easier if I let go of the hold that concepts of history, time, culture, and science had on me. Of course, I am a westerner and have been conditioned as such. My father was a nuclear physicist and an agnostic. That conditioning is there. But it is just conditioning and is trumped by a spiritual point of view of oneness, timelessness, mystery and grace. Without denying their relative reality, I no longer feel wedded to or bound by science and materialism.

As a westerner and one who likes ideas and systems, I want to use this tendency to benefit others. This is the motivation behind this writing. I find that I am torn between the impulses to go on expounding various ideas which bubble up and the desire to speak simply and autobiographically with stories, in a more interdependent or relational way.

Interdependence with the Guru

For the most part my relationship with Baba did not seem to have much interdependence. He seemed godlike and virtually omnipotent to me, while I was a mere novice on the path. I felt a great gulf between us in many ways. This seemed appropriate since he did have enormous spiritual power and I was a beginning seeker. There was one experience I had with him, however, that seemed to turn this dynamic around.

During the second world tour, Baba had a heart attack and was hospitalized. After some time the doctors allowed him to receive visitors and some of us were taken to the hospital to visit him. On one such occasion my husband and I were ushered into Baba’s darkened hospital room. He was lying on his side, without his teeth, looking like an old grandfather.

We sat on the floor very close to him and he began saying, “Baba has no shakti now.” He went on in this vein and reached out and took my hand. As he held my hand, I had the most amazing experience. I became very large and the top of my head opened up. Into my head from above streamed a vast flow of energy. It was very bright, both white and golden. As it flowed into my head, it filled my body which became enormous in order to contain this vast energy. It flowed down my arm and through my hand out to Baba’s hand.

I was transfixed and marveled that I was helping Baba. Although I had nothing to do with it, I felt that I was a channel of grace for him. It amazed me that it could work like this. I saw that anyone could be a channel for God’s grace. Baba usually fulfilled this function, but when he felt depleted, the universe would provide him with energy to be able to fulfill his function. In addition to the radiant bliss of the energy, I also felt incredibly honored to somehow be able to be part of this amazing process.

On another occasion, Dick Mann, a devotee from the Ann Arbor ashram, shared a similar experience. It was wonderful to contemplate that Baba lived in this universe of interdependence. Lama Drimed acknowledged this interdependence when he began prostrating to his sangha after his three year retreat. He acknowledged the oneness of guru and disciple in this moving gesture.

Karmic Connection

Another aspect of interdependence that fascinated me was karmic connection. Although everything is interconnected, the way that it is interconnected is mysterious. We all have affinities and connections from the past that deeply influence our lives. For example, I knew that I had karma with the Tibetans. I had read all the books by and about Chogyam Trungpa that I could get my hands on during the 70’s and had loved them. I didn’t really understand a lot of it, but it was compelling. And then there was my connection with the Karmapa. At the first glimpse of him, I had burst into tears.

Once, just after leaving Siddha Yoga, I consulted a much touted psychic, who was a housewife in Kansas. I spoke about Baba, Gurumayi, Nityananda, and all the dramas I had been involved in. She gave me very interesting advice, and at one point in our conversation she said that Baba was doing this and that. I pointed out that Baba was dead. She said, “He’s dead?” When I assured her that he was, she responded, “Well, he’s still running everything.” This had rung true at the time.

At the end of our session, she told me that I had a lot of protection. She saw hosts of Buddhists above me. I told her they were not Buddhists, but Hindus, because I didn’t know any Buddhists. She insisted that they were Buddhists. I calmly assured her that they must be Hindus, assuming that she couldn’t tell the difference. She was most adamant that these beings above me, protecting me, were Buddhists. I completely forgot all about this until one day long after I had moved into the gonpa. She was apparently right after all.

There were many small experiences that helped me integrate my two paths. For one thing, some of the westerners had heard that the highly revered Chatral Rinpoche has once said about Baba, “He is an emanation of Tilopa.” Tilopa was an Indian siddha, the founder of the Kagyu lineage, and the guru of Naropa - who in turn was followed by Marpa, Milarepa, Gampopa and the first Karmapa.

When Rinpoche died in 2001, I had a powerful meditation dream in which he and Baba met. From a distance, Rinpoche shouted out, “I’ve heard a lot about you!” They were both beaming at each other and ended up in a big bear hug and a lot of laughter. This experience made me exceedingly happy.

I had always felt that there was a connection between Baba and the Tibetans and that I was part of it in some way. It struck me during the Karmapa’s visit to Ganeshpuri during which he performed the Black Hat ceremony in Baba’s ashram. For some reason Swamiji and I were present at a private meeting between the two great gurus. It was held at Turiya Mandir in the upper garden.

An English woman who was a Tibetan nun, Ma Bedi, translated for the Karmapa and either Professor Jain or Amma translated for Baba. I remember that Baba was very intent on asking the Karmapa about the blue pearl, a significant experience that Baba frequently spoke about. It seemed to me at the time that Baba wanted some confirmation of the importance or meaning of this mysterious phenomenon.

The other thing that struck me was the gift the Karmapa gave Baba. It was a Tibetan bell and dorje, traditional ritual implements used in sadhana practice and all rituals. Baba leaned forward with great delight and took them, in the appropriate hands, and held them. Then the two of them fell out into samadhi. There are photos of this event in which Baba is meditating still holding the bell and dorje in his lap. This was long before I heard the story of Baba being an emanation of Tilopa, but it gave me a strong intuitive feeling that there was a connection between the two of them that went way back into the past.

I could see no reason why I was present at this private meeting – except that I too was part of this tradition. Later when I moved into the gonpa, I felt somewhat uncomfortable about my Hindu roots, especially since there is a prejudice against Hinduism that I detected. Historically there had been many famous debates between adherents of the two religions. I had always heard of the Hindus besting all comers, but here I heard the opposite – how the Buddhists always won in debate.

I knew this was just politics but it made me feel that my credentials were somewhat suspect. So, I was very happy when I met Sogyal Rinpoche, author of the best-selling The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, and he gave me a lovely affirmation. He visited the gonpa and gave a public talk at the local elementary school in Weaverville. Marilyn, an old friend of his, introduced me to him, saying, “She used to be a swami.” He looked lovingly at me and said, “She still is.”

It is All a Play

I developed great love for the Karmapa during his visit to Ganeshpuri. Later when he visited the Ann Arbor ashram, and I was his hostess, I had my first argument with Baba - over which chair the Karmapa was to be given.

There were two identical love seats which I felt would be perfect for the two of them to use during a public program outside the ashram. One was Baba’s seat in the hall and the other was in his quarters upstairs. I felt it was the right solution and so with great confidence, I went into his room and asked him if I could take the love seat for the program. He didn’t like it and told me to use another chair. I stood my ground, a novelty for me, and finally Baba grudgingly gave in.

I had heard many stories of others arguing with Baba and prevailing, so I knew it was possible, but it had never been a possibility for me before. I didn’t even feel badly about it because I felt divinely inspired. I felt that it was a kind of joke between Baba and me, a play in which he pretended to want to keep the chair in his room and then let me get it away from him. I felt that he too knew that it was the right solution.

This idea of play or lila is also part of the doctrine of interdependence. Everything and everyone plays out their karma according to their conditioning and according to circumstances. Each act, however insignificant, has an effect on the whole. At the same time that one is irrevocably intertwined with everything else, there is also free will to act and make your own mark on the whole. Such is the dynamic energy of Awareness, the Shakti of Shiva.