The Woman Lapdron

Starting as a young girl, Machik learns to read extremely well, and her first “job” is to recite the prajnaparamita sutras. Oral recitation seems quite foreign to our notion of reading and needs to be understood in the context of a long tradition of reading scripture as a spiritual practice in and of itself. In cultures where literacy was quite rare, the ability to read at all was a highly revered skill, even akin to magic. The power of the word still

held its full mystical force, and the written word took on a spiritual life of its own. And these words of the Buddha, the very Dharma itself, were every bit as powerful as mystical incantations, the curses of sorcerers, or mantric spells. Note the connection of “spell” and the “spelling” of written words. These words held the very power to enlighten. At a certain period in the history of Buddhism, the written word, in the form of the sutras of the Buddha, came to be an object of veneration, partially replacing the earlier veneration of relics and reliquaries (stupas)™

In Tibet, reading the words of the Buddha became a primary function of the clergy, one that the laity would gladly pay for in order to gain the benefit. The faithful would not necessarily understand what was being read, but that was not a problem. Often the reader might not understand it. The power of the recited words was enough to ensure the Buddha’s benediction for continued prosperity and well-being. It is very common even today to see such readers employed by householders all over the Himalayan region.

But Machik did more than read—she understood. While racing through The Perfection of Wisdom in One Hundred Thousand Lines (twelve volumes) at supersonic speed, she was comprehending its meaning. Intellectual under¬standing was not enough, however, and she was admonished by Sonam Lama, her primary spiritual guide.

Lapdron did as the lama instructed, doing her recitation practice. while contemplating the meaning. While on the chapter concerning devils, she suddenly understood. A special realization arose within her unlike anything before. Suddenly she was free of all mental elaboration, and the knot of self-fixation was released. The sun of transcendent knowledge, the realization of nonself, arose and dispelled even the sound “darkness of selffixation.” (chapter 7)

Machik suddenly “got it.” In particular, she understood the chapter on evil, or mara, and therein lies the germ of her famous teachings on Chod, the Vajrayana enactment of the prajnaparamita. And it is here that Lapdron the woman and Machik the dakini of timeless wisdom merge. Although the notion here of evil is definitely the sense of ego-fixation or spiritual death, it is not unrelated that her eventual practice is associated with more “real” demonic spirits, for outer and inner, mind and its perceptions, are never so separated as we in the West tend to believe.

Motherhood

It is notable that Machik herself was an actual, physical mother and that this fact is not at all obscured in the biography. Diana Paul points out that in some religions, “In the maternal role woman can receive legitimized power within the religious structure,” but in Buddhism, “Mothers represented to Buddhists sufferers and perpetual givers of life in pain, almost as if it were a natural law for women to suffer.”25 In fact, it is these very suffering

mothers who motivate aspiring bodhisattvas to exert themselves on the spiritual path in order to rescue them. In Tibet, the role of the mother was certainly honored in itself, but not as a viable spiritual path on which one could actually progress to liberation. Rather it was seen as a trap to be avoided altogether if enlightenment was the goal.

Does the existence of a rich theory and iconography of the Great Mother, and even the cultic behavior of worshiping her, mean that real mothers reap the benefits? Is this a case of the idealized mother bearing no resemblance to a real woman, and even a formula for denying and undermining the real thing? Anne Klein explores the connection of theory and practice:

Female images of the divine, that is female enlightened Buddhas, abound; positive female imagery is a major element of Tibetan Buddhist art and practice. Furthermore, Buddhist philosophy appears to support an egalitarian vision and to affirm a cluster of values one would expect to work positively for women.

This question is this: Are these positive indications mirrored by women’s place in society?

The Tibetan writer Migyur Dorje Madrong states that “in fact countless numbers of great women have existed in Tibet, but only a few of them were recorded in the historical documents, probably because of discrimination against women.” He cites a Tibetan historical record that specifically leaves out women “to avoid this document from becoming too extended.’^7

But it is not just androcentric record-keeping that was the problem. Gener¬ally, a woman who wished to devote herself to religious life had fewer options than a man. The most respected spiritual role for women in Tibet was as the consort of a great lama. Other options were life as a celibate nun in a poorly funded nunnery or at home, or as a wandering pilgrim or yogini. Female spirit-mediums and delogs (“returned from beyond”) with paranormal experiences were also acceptable. But positions of power or even erudition in the clerical hierarchy were generally unavailable.

Although Machik represents an exception to some of these limitations, she was certainly a part ofher world. Her “demonstration” of renunciation, which entailed leaving her children at one point, is a reflection of the prevailing attitude that one must renounce home life and children (and women themselves) as the cause of bondage. Her liaison with their father, Topa Bhadra, was apparently met with skepticism and even shame on her own part and that of the society. In some versions, it is said that the reason for this scandal was the breaking of nun’s vows, although many versions do not report her ever

tak¬ing ordination.^ The biography translated in the present book seems to go to some length to explain away her foray into normal sexuality by emphasizing that both of her masters urged her on because it was auspicious, that is, some¬how religious. It furthers its case by practically deifying Topa Bhadra, a view with which at least one Tibetan historian takes issued Finally, the prevailing history that is commonly accepted by people down to the present is

that Machik was the direct disciple and a tantric consort of a great Indian saint, Dampa Sangye (d. 1117), even though there is scant real evidence of this.30 Dampa is also most often credited with founding the entire Chod system. This would serve to legitimate Machik’s tradition as Indic in origin and also to place her in the sanctioned role of consort and preserver of the teachings of a male saint. But this has been contested in recent scholarship.

Karenina Koll- mar-Paulenz states that “the allocation of the gCod doctrine to a male Indian lama (Pha dam pa sangs rgyas) in order to prove the conformity of the gCod teaching to the teaching of the Buddha proves to be very doubtful in the light of the actual textual evidence.’”31 So how did Machik Labdron escape the circumscriptions on women to the extent that she did? How did we end up with this text, retold and revised over

centuries by the many men in her lineage, in which Machik is presented as an unabashed mother manifesting her full powers to teach a dharma system of her own making to her own children? I would say that it is because of this very system, the amazing Chod, and its undeniable uniqueness and efficacy that

Machik’s legacy has endured the centuries, joining the ultimate feminine principle with the life of an actual woman.

In the end, Machik takes her place in the pantheon of enlightened embodiments, and the collective memory of her real life is absorbed into the sacred view that yearns to awaken its own nature. In the various rites of Chod in every tradition into which it was assimilated, Machik is envisioned, or re-vi¬sioned, surrounded by the Great Mother, VajrayoginI, and a retinue of dakinis and buddhas.

Her body is white as a conch shell,
With one face and two hands.
Her right hand plays a golden drum in the sky.
The left supports a silver bell at her hip.
Her three eyes gaze into space.
Her hair is bound atop her head,
The rest flowing free down her back.
Her naked body adorned with bones and jewels,
With right leg flexed and the left straight—she dances.