Tibetan Ritual

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Tibetan Ritual

edited by josé ignacio cabezón

1
2010
1
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Tibetan ritual / edited by José Ignacio Cabezón.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-19-539281-4; 978-0-19-539282-1 (pbk.)
1. Tibet (China)—Religious life and customs. 2. Rites
and ceremonies—China—Tibet.
I. Cabezón, José Ignacio, 1956–
BL1945.T5T54 2010
294.3'438—dc22 2009012773

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Printed in the United States of America
on acid-free paper
Contents

Contributors, vii

Introduction, 1
José Ignacio Cabezón

1. Written Texts at the Juncture of the Local and the Global: Some
Anthropological Considerations on a Local Corpus of Tantric
Ritual Manuals (Lower Mustang, Nepal), 35
Nicolas Sihlé

2. Tibetan Indigenous Myths and Rituals with Reference to the

Ancient Bön Text: The Nyenbum (Gnyan’bum), 53
Samten G. Karmay

3. Continuity and Change in Tibetan Maha–yoga Ritual: Some

Evidence from the Tabzhag (Thabs zhags) Manuscript and Other
Dunhuang Texts, 69
Robert Mayer and Cathy Cantwell

4. The Convergence of Theoretical and Practical Concerns in a

Single Verse of the Guhyasama–ja Tantra, 89
Yael Bentor

5. Chilu (‘Chi bslu): Rituals for “Deceiving Death”, 103

Irmgard Mengele
vi contents

6. Representations of Efficacy: The Ritual Expulsion of Mongol Armies in

the Consolidation and Expansion of the Tsang (Gtsang) Dynasty, 131
James Gentry

7. The “Calf ’s Nipple” (Be’u bum) of Ju Mipam (‘Ju Mi pham):

A Handbook of Tibetan Ritual Magic, 165
Bryan J. Cuevas

8. Rites of the Deity Tamdrin (Rta mgrin) in Contemporary Bön:

Transforming Poison and Eliminating Noxious Spirits
with Burning Stones, 187
Marc des Jardins

9. Texts as Deities: Mongols’ Rituals of Worshipping Sūtras and Rituals

of Accomplishing Various Goals by Means of Sūtras, 207
Vesna Wallace

10. The Ritual Veneration of Mongolia’s Mountains, 225

Jared Lindahl

11. Encounter with a Dream: Bhutanese Pilgrims in Tibet—Performing

a Ritual?, 249
Françoise Pommaret

Bibliography, 263

Index, 291
Contributors

Yael Bentor is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Indian Studies

at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. She is the author of a num-
ber of books and articles on the theory and practice of Tantra, most
recently “Do ‘The Tantras Embody What The Practitioners Actually
Do’?” (in Contributions to the Study of Tibetan Literature, 2008), and
“Can Women Attain Enlightenment Through Vajraya–na Practices” (in
Karmic Passages: Israeli Scholarship on India, 2009). Currently, she is
working on a book on the creation stage of the Guhyasama–ja.

Cathy Cantwell and Robert Mayer are Research Officers and Mem-
bers of the Buddhist Studies Unit of the Oriental Institute, University
of Oxford, and Senior Researchers at the University of Cardiff. They
have coauthored two books: The Kı̄laya Nirva–na Tantra and the Vajra
Wrath Tantra: Two Texts from the Ancient Tantra Collection (2007) and
Early Tibetan Documents on Phur pa from Dunhuang (2009). Their cur-
rent research focuses on the Tabzhag (Thabs zhags) or Noose of Methods
Tantra, on the early Bön and Buddhist traditions of the deity Purpa
(Dagger), and (together with Professor Geoffrey Samuel) on a twenti-
eth-century ritual cycle of the Dujom tradition.

Bryan J. Cuevas is Associate Professor of Buddhist and Tibetan

Studies in the Department of Religion at Florida State University. He
is the author of The Hidden History of the Tibetan Book of the Dead
(2003) and Travels in the Netherworld: Buddhist Popular Narratives
viii contributors

of Death and the Afterlife in Tibet (2008), and is the editor, with Jacqueline I.
Stone, of The Buddhist Dead: Practices, Discourses, Representations (2007). He is
currently working on a study of Tibetan sorcery and the politics of war magic
from the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries.

J. F. Marc des Jardins is Assistant Professor of the Religions of China and

Tibet in the Department of Religion of Concordia University in Montréal. He
specializes on the Tibetan Bön religion and the practice of religion along the
Sino-Tibetan frontiers. He has been engaged in field-based research in Tibetan
territories within the PRC since 1991. He not only studies Bön textual material,
but also rituals and other religious practices in contemporary settings.

James Gentry is a doctoral candidate in the Committee on the Study of Religion

at Harvard University. He is working on a dissertation on the life and times of
Sogdogpa Lodrö Gyaltsen (Sog bzlog pa Blo gros rgyal mtshan), focusing on
his memoir, the History of How the Mongols Were Turned Back (Sog bzlog bgyis
tshul gyi lo rgyus). He is the author of “Historical Skepticism in ‘Pre-modern’
Tibet: the Contested Historicity of Traditional Padmasambhava Narratives,” in
New Perspectives on Tibetan Traditionality, Columbia University Press (2009).

Jared Lindahl has completed his MA in Religious Studies from the University
of California Santa Barbara and is presently a doctoral candidate at that same
institution. He did field research on sacred geography in Mongolia in 2004.
Lindahl is currently working on a doctoral dissertation focusing on the doctrine
of light and use of light imagery in Tibetan Buddhism and early Christianity.

Irmgard Mengele is a research scholar in the Religious Studies Department

at the University of California Santa Barbara. She is the author of dGe-‘dun-
chos-‘phel: A Biography of the 20th-Century Tibetan Scholar (1999) and The Life
and Art of the Tenth Karma-pa Chos-dbyings-rdo-rje (1604–1674): A Biography of
a Great Tibetan Lama and Artist of the Turbulent Seventeenth Century (forthcom-
ing). Currently she is working on a project on the theory and practice of heal-
ing, medicine, and longevity in Indo-Tibetan Buddhism.

Françoise Pommaret is Directeur de recherche at the Centre National de la

Recherche Scientifique, Paris, and advisor to the Institute of Language and
Cultural Studies, Royal University of Bhutan. She has authored Tibet, A
Wounded Civilization (2005) and has contributed to as well as edited Bhutan:
Mountain Fortress of the Gods (2005), Lhasa in the 17th century: The Capital of the
 contributors ix

Dalai-Lamas (2005), and Bhutan: Tradition and Change (2007 with J. Ardussi).
She works on the sociopolitical significance of rituals and their evolution.

Samten Karmay is Directeur de recherche emeriate at the Centre National de

la Recherche Scientifique, Paris. He is the author of The Great Perfection, A
Meditative and Philosophical Teaching of Tibetan Buddhism (1988, reprint 2007);
Secret Visions of the Fifth Dalai Lama (1988, reprint 1998); and the two-volume
The Arrow and the Spindle, Studies in History, Myths, Rituals and Beliefs in Tibet
(1998 and 2005). Currently he is working on the Dukula, the autobiography of
the Fifth Dalai Lama.

Nicolas Sihlé is Assistant Professor in the Department of Anthropology at the

University of Virginia and Associated Member of the Laboratory “Milieux,
Sociétés et Cultures en Himalaya” of the CNRS (France). His work focuses,
from an anthropological perspective, on Tibet and the Himalayas, on Tibetan
religion in particular, and more generally on the comparative study of Bud-
dhist societies, as well as on theories of ritual and religion. He is completing
a book entitled Rituals of Power and Violence: Tantric Buddhism in the Tibetan
Himalayas.

Vesna Wallace is Professor in the Department of Religious Studies at the Uni-

versity of California, Santa Barbara. She is author of The Inner Kālacakratantra:
A Buddhist Tantric View of the Individual, and has published several books of
translation from Sanskrit, Tibetan, and Mongolian. She has also authored a
series of articles on esoteric Buddhism and produced four documentary films
on Mongolia. Vesna Wallace has been conducting annual field research in
Mongolia on the revival of Mongolian Buddhism since 2000, research that will
result in her new volume on contemporary Buddhism in Mongolia.
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Tibetan Ritual
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Introduction
josé ignacio cabezón

Look around almost anywhere you find yourself in the greater Tibetan
cultural world—in Tibet, certainly, but also in Bhutan, Mongolia, and
the Nepalese Himalayas—and you see ritual. If you live near a mon-
astery, chances are that you will awaken to the sound of a gong calling
monks to their morning prayer-assembly or tsog (tshogs). Even if you
live far from a monastery, you may well be roused from sleep by the
high-pitched clanging of someone ringing a ritual bell, or by the soft
murmur of neighbors reciting khandön (kha ‘don), their daily ritual
commitments. When you walk out of your door into the courtyard of
your home, you see a family member burning sang (bsang), juniper
incense, for the daily purification of the household or as a ritual offer-
ing to the gods. Before you begin eating your breakfast, you will recite
a prayer offering the food to the Three Jewels. If you live in an urban
area like Lhasa, when you walk out into the streets, you will not have
to wander very far before you see young men dressed in monks’ garb
sitting on a sidewalk intoning rituals as a way of procuring a little
money. And when you pass the local temple, you hear the fast, rhyth-
mic chanting and drum-beating of a protector deity kangso (bskang
gso) ritual. At the next intersection, in the middle of a busy street,
you come across a discarded “thread-cross” or namkha (nam mkha’ ),
the remnants of an exorcism ritual from the night before. Walking
past an old woman, you hear her softly reciting a prayer for the long
life of His Holiness the Dalai Lama. At the Khyichu river’s edge, you
stumble upon a lone torma (gtor ma), a ritual cake that failed to make
2 introduction

its way into the rushing stream, the vestige of a tantric ritual from the night
before. And everywhere, literally everywhere, you see people carrying rosaries
and softly chanting the mantra of Avalokiteśvara, om man·i padme hūm · . To a far
greater extent than either abstract philosophy or silent meditation, it is ritual
that pervades the Tibetan religious landscape.
Not only does ritual fill Tibetan space, but it also pervades Tibetan time.
While prayers and rituals of various types are the daily practices of many Tibet-
ans, ritual activity increases significantly on düzang (dus bzang), days consid-
ered holy or auspicious. For example, it has become a custom in contemporary
Tibetan society to make burnt juniper offerings in public spaces—in Lhasa,
Drapchi (Grwa bzhi) Temple is especially popular—on Wednesdays, the day
of the week when the present Dalai Lama was born. New or full moon days,
to which is sometimes added the eighth day of the Tibetan lunar month, are
said to be times when both virtuous and nonvirtuous actions are “magnified.”
Hence, merit-making rituals, especially of the exoteric or sūtra variety, are pop-
ular on these days. New and full moon days are also the days when monks and
nuns do their bimonthly “confession” or sojong (gso sbyong) rituals. Lay Bud-
dhists often ritually vow to uphold the eight “Mahāyāna precepts” (theg chen
gso sbyong) on these same two days. Other days of the month are just as ritually
charged. The eighth day, for instance, is considered auspicious for performing
the Medicine Buddha rituals (Sman bla’i mdo chog). Rituals to Padmasambhava
and ritual offerings to deities, called tsogchö (tshogs mchod), are often done on
the tenth of the lunar calendar. The twenty-fifth day is considered especially
appropriate for engaging in offering rituals to a specific group of tantric deities
that includes Vajrayoginı̄ and Cakrasam · vara. Finally, the twenty-ninth day of
the month is the most favorable for carrying out ritual propitiations of sungma
(srung ma), protector deities. More than a week out of every month is therefore
ritually auspicious.
Ritual activities also dramatically increase at certain points in the yearly
calendar.1 For example, multiple-day ritual cycles are enacted in the first two
weeks of the first Tibetan month as part of the New Year festivities, culminat-
ing, on the fifteenth of the month, with the Festival of the Buddha’s Great Mir-
acles (Cho ‘phrul chen po’i dus chen). That day is also the birth celebration of
Tönpa Shenrab (Ston pa Gshen rab), the founder of Tibet’s Bön religion.2 The
fourth Tibetan month, called Sagadawa (sa ga zla ba), is arguably the holiest
month of the Buddhist liturgical year, the month in which Tibetans celebrate
the Buddha’s birth, and according to some sources also his enlightenment
and death. Sagadawa is a particularly popular time for engaging in communal
fasting rites known as nyungné (smyung gnas). On the fourth day of the sixth
month, Tibetans Buddhists celebrate the Festival of the Turning of the Wheel
 introduction 3

of the Doctrine (Chos ‘khor dus chen) that marks the day the Buddha delivered
his first sermon. And in the second fortnight of the ninth month, they cel-
ebrate the Buddha’s return from his visit to the god realm, the Lhabab Düchen
(Lha babs dus chen). Finally, a giant torma offering called gutor (dgu gtor) is
performed in many places on the last day of the old year to drive out evil influ-
ences. A similar ritual is enacted in Bön, just one of many overlaps between
the rituals of Buddhism and Tibet’s indigenous religion. Monks spend most of
the day performing elaborate rituals in their monasteries during these festival
days, and the laity will visit monasteries, make offerings, and engage in a vari-
ety of rituals of their own.
There are also specific days throughout the year commemorating the birth,
death, or special events in the lives of different Tibetan saints. These too are
times of intense ritual activity. The fourteenth day of the first Tibetan month,
for example, commemorates the great Tibetan yogi Milarepa (Rje btsun Mi la
ras pa, 1052–1135), and Jé Tsongkhapa (Rje Tsong kha pa, 1357–1419) is memo-
rialized in the “Ganden Feast of the Twenty-Fifth,” Ganden Ngamchö (Dga’
ldan lnga mchod), so-called because it takes place on the twenty-fifth day of the
tenth month. Finally, given the centrality of agriculture and animal husbandry
to Tibetan society, planting and harvest rituals3 are often an important part
of the yearly ritual calendar, as are rituals for the protection and well-being of
farm animals, and for the control of weather.
All this is just the proverbial tip of the iceberg, for in addition to these
largely pan-Tibetan ceremonial traditions, there are many local festivals with
their own specific rites that may include everything from ritual dances, called
cham (‘cham/s), to oracular displays.4
Anti-ritual rhetoric is not unknown in Tibetan religions. For example,
some texts see ritual as a mere precursor to the more profound practice of
meditation (sgom), implying a kind of hierarchy of religious practices in which
meditation in some way supercedes liturgical ritual. In other texts, ritual, and
even meditation itself, are portrayed as contrived (bcos ma), and therefore as
practices that must eventually be transcended.5 But, significantly, the figures in
whose works we find such views expressed never, in point of fact, completely
abandon rituals in their own lives, nor do their latter-day heirs.

Ritual and Cosmology

It is difficult to understand the Tibetan passion for ritual without understand-

ing something of the Tibetan cosmological worldview. Tibetans see themselves
as living in a universe populated by Buddhas and deities who transcend space
4 introduction

and time, by powerful gods and demigods who live in various heavenly realms,
and by spirits who have diverse relationships to specific sites in the natural
landscape. The Tibetan pantheon is one of the most extensive among the
world’s religions.6 Some of these gods and spirits are of Indian origin. Oth-
ers are variants of Indic deities who appeared in new forms to Tibetan saints.
Still others are non-Buddhist in origin, gods who were incorporated into the
Tibetan Buddhist pantheon from the indigenous religious systems of Tibet
and surrounding cultures. Mythic narratives often explain the origin of differ-
ent deities and spirits—how they were born, how they made first contact with
humanity, and how they became a part of religious (usually ritual) practices.
Like the gods themselves, some of these myths are of Indian origin. Others
are part of Tibetan pre-Buddhist lore. Samten Karmay’s chapter in this volume
(chapter 2) explores a myth related to a class of Tibetan spirits known as nyen
(gnyan), a myth that charts the evolution of the relationship between humans
and nyen culminating in the advent of ritual, to (gto). Individual rituals and
ritual cycles often make reference to these mythic narratives, and sometimes
recapitulate parts of the myths in a stylized fashion within liturgies.
In the Tibetan worldview, the boundary between the human and nonhu-
man worlds is permeable. Enlightened beings sometimes incarnate in the
world, taking on human form. At other times they appear to human beings in
visions and dreams. Highly accomplished adepts sometimes travel to celestial
realms, where they procure doctrines and practices that they then bring back
to earth. Lesser spirits, of course, are also active agents in the world, acting at
times to help, and at other times to hinder human beings in their pursuit of
both worldly and spiritual goals. Men and women endowed with the gift of the
“divine eye” (lha’i mig), a kind of supernormal power, can make contact with,
receive information from, and request the intervention of various nonhuman
agents. Some rare individuals even have the capacity to act as the “vessels” for
spirits who descend (bab) into their bodies and speak through them—the phe-
nomenon of the oracle.7 Tantric specialists, even those who lack such super-
normal abilities, engage in practices to request the “enlightened activity,” or
trinlé (‘phrin las), of deities, or to force lesser spirits to intervene on their behalf.
Ritual is most often the medium through which such communications and
interventions take place.
Various schemes have been used in both the Buddhist and Bönpo tradi-
tions to organize their complex pantheons. Some of these classificiations are
indigenous to the Tibetan world. Others are “imported”—for example, from
India. Other schemes combine indigenous and foreign categories. Indigenous
Tibetan schemes include a bipartite classification into gods and demons (lha
‘dre), and a tripartite one into (1) “site spirits,” or sadag (sa bdag), (2) lu (klu,
 introduction 5

after the introduction of Buddhism in Tibet made to correspond to the Indian

nāgas), and (3) nyen. There are also more complex eightfold and ninefold classi-
fications that divide the nonhuman world according to the colors of the spirits,
and according to their habitat.8 Some of these eight or nine types of spirits—
for example, the si (sri)—can be further subclassified according to whom they
afflict (adults or children), and according to the harm they bring (disease, death,
loss, etc.).
In broader schemes, gods can be classified according to whether they are
“peaceful” (zhi ba) or “wrathful” (khro bo); according to whether they are tute-
lary deities (yi dam) or protectors (srung ma, bka’ skyong). They are also classi-
fied according to their “specialty”—for example, whether their main function
is to bring about wisdom, long life, etc. Tutelary deities, the “high” tantric gods,
are further subdivided according to their degree of accessibility—whether, for
instance, they are an exemplification of the most ethereal body, the dharmakāya
(chos sku; Bon: bon sku), of the slightly more accessible enjoyment or perfect
body, the sambhogakāya (longs sku; Bon: rdzogs sku), or of the most accessible
emanation body (sprul sku).
One of the most important classification schemes, found in many elite texts,
divides the pantheon into two categories: (1) supramundane gods,9 enlightened
deities who have achieved perfection, and (2) mundane gods10 who, though
powerful, are far from perfect, being easily offended and at times fickle and
moody. Both mundane gods and supramundane deities, as just mentioned, are
seen as acting within the human world. Whereas worldly spirits intervene in
human affairs in both positive and negative ways, enlightened beings, by defini-
tion, can only work for the welfare of others. The actions of enlightened beings,
however, can take a variety of forms. For example, supramundane deities can
sometimes act violently when this is for the greater good of beings, as when a
deity kills an evildoer (sdig can), or an “enemy of the Dharma” (bstan dgra). The
elite tradition maintains that because enlightened beings are beyond the forces
of the natural world (including the human world), they can, in principle, never
be forced to act in a way that contradicts their compassionate nature. These
gods, whose goal is to help sentient beings, can therefore never act in a way that
brings long-term harm to others. Mundane spirits, on the other hand—spirits
who are still under the influence of anger, self-cherishing, and other mental
“afflictions”—can be manipulated so as to bring about worldly aims, even when
these run counter to the long-term spiritual welfare of beings. For example,
worldly spirits can be propitiated for wealth, even when such riches serve as
an impediment to the practitioner’s own spiritual progress. Often motivated
by negative emotions, spirits can also become annoyed with, and act aggres-
sively toward, human beings, quite apart from any ritual enticements (e.g., by
6 introduction

sorcerers). Such “interferences” or barché (bar chad) can, however, be ritually

counteracted. For example, a spirit’s anger can be assuaged through material
offerings. A spirit can also be coerced into cooperation through the sheer power
of the tantric specialist, who, through ritual means, assumes the mighty form
of a tantric deity so as to make the spirit bow to his or her will.
The mundane–supramundane distinction is an attempt to bring order to the
vast and complex pantheon. Aside from simply allowing Tibetans to organize the
types of gods with whom they interact, this and the other ways of categorizing
the gods also provide ritual specialists with a set of rules that defines these inter-
actions: which gods might be approached under what circumstances, and what
ritual methods should be employed for achieving specific aims. For example, an
adept does not expect to achieve enlightenment through the ritual propitiation of a
mundane protector. Neither would it make sense to engage in the profound deity-
yoga practice or sādhana of a supramundane deity with the sole goal of fulfilling a
“mundane,” temporary purpose—for example, gaining power over an enemy.
Like all attempts at creating order out of a historically heterogeneous set
of data, however, the mundane–supramundane distinction is not without fis-
sures, ambiguities, or inconsistencies. For one thing, the dividing line between
the mundane and supramundane is not always clear. Some gods are consid-
ered “half-wisdom and half mundane.”11 Moreover, gods that start out his-
torically as worldly spirits are sometimes “promoted,” and later come to be
considered emanations of fully enlightened beings. Conversely, gods that are
originally considered highly realized beings sometimes get “demoted” and
come to be considered unstable worldly spirits. As in the human realm, there is
both upward and downward mobility. Such promotions and demotions, more-
over, often become sites of contestation and a source of factionalism within the
Tibetan world.12 In addition, the rules that govern the ritual “use” of different
gods are not always clear. For example, while Tibetans consider the wrathful
deities Vajrakı̄la and Hayagrı̄va to be supramundane, many of their rites are
pragmatic—that is, they are methods of protecting individuals or communities,
or subjugating worldly or spiritual enemies. As Cuevas’s chapter in this vol-
ume (chapter 7) makes clear, the elite tradition couches such practices within
a religious rubric that stresses the importance of a proper motivation (compas-
sion) as the basis for these wrathful rites, called dragpö lé (drag po’i las). But the
fact remains that many of these rituals contain elements that are procedurally
indistinguishable from magic or sorcery.
The mundane–supramundane distinction is an “emic” one—that is, a
distinction made by tradition itself. Another such division, the local–trans-
local one, is “etic”: a distinction made by Western scholars in their attempt
to bring some semblance of order to the pantheon. In this latter scheme,
 introduction 7

one typically finds Buddhas and tantric deities characterized as “translocal,”

while mundane spirits, whom Tibetans often associate with specific moun-
tains, lakes, springs, rocks, and trees are characterized as “local.” Many
local spirits—like Adamantine Turquoise Mist, Great Mother of the Snows
(Gangs kyi yum chen rdo rje g.yu bun ma), and the five Long-Life Goddesses
(Tshe ring ma)—are pre-Buddhist in origin. Buddhist sources tells us that,
although originally opposed to the foreign Buddhist doctrine, they were sub-
dued, bound under oath, and sworn to protect the Buddhist teachings by great
tantric masters like Padmasambhava.13 Like the mundane–supramundane
distinction, the local–translocal one can be helpful when it comes to under-
standing the Tibetan pantheon. But like the former, the latter is not without
its ambiguities. So-called “local spirits,” for example, at times become popu-
lar over a vast area, as has happened with the goddess Dorje Yüdrönma (Rdo
rje g.yu sgron ma), Adamantine Lamp of Turquoise. What is more, purport-
edly place-bound spirits at times travel and change their place of residence.
Case in point is the god Tawog (Tha ‘og). Originally a “resident” of the area
around Samyé (Bsam yas) Monastery, he is said to have left his original home
to become the protector of Sera Monastery’s Mé (Smad) College.14 Likewise,
the goddess who makes Lhasa’s famous Drapchi Temple her home is said
to be of Chinese origin, having left China to accompany a Tibetan monk to
the capital (Figures 1 and 2). Nor does the ritual propitiation of a “local” deity
necessarily have to take place at the site where the deity lives. For example,
exiled Tibetans from far eastern Tibet continue to propitiate their protector
deity Machen Pomra (Rma chen spom ra) even in India. During that ritual,
the deity is believed to be present at a place thousands of miles away from
its mountain abode. I have even heard Tibetans claim that this protector has
permanently relocated to Dharamsala to be close to the A mdo region’s most
famous native son, His Holiness the Dalai Lama. The so-called local spirits,
therefore, are frequently on the move.
Conversely, purportedly translocal deities—tantric deities of Indian origin
like Yamāntaka and Cakrasam · vara—often come to be associated with specific
places in the Tibetan landscape. The images of these deities can emerge out of
rocks on the sides of mountains, the phenomenon of the “self-arisen image”
or rangjön (rang byon), indicating their “real presence” on Tibetan soil. Other
examples of the “localization” of translocal gods abound. For instance, the
cemeteries on the outskirts of Lhasa are said to be the charnel grounds of
Cakrasam · vara—a tantric deity of Indian origin; and one of the peaks over-
looking Garu (Ga ru) Nunnery near Lhasa, called Demchog Lari (Bde mchog
bla ri), is said to be the “Soul Mountain” of this same god.15 In this case,
a pre-Buddhist notion of sacred geography (that of “soul mountain” or lari)
8 introduction

figure 1 The Drabchi Goddess, from a mural in her temple in Lhasa.

Photo: J. Cabezón (2006).

comes to be associated with an Indian tantric deity precisely to localize the

deity within the Tibetan landscape.16 The topic of “soul force” or la (bla) is
treated in both Karmay’s and Cuevas’s chapters (chapters 2 and 7) in this
volume. Lindahl’s chapter (chapter 10) argues that the association of sacred
mountains in Mongolia with Buddhist tantric deities was a strategy for dis-
placing the cult of indigenous spirits, and therefore constituted a Buddhist
enculturation strategy—making Buddhism “local” by providing a Mongolian
home to its foreign (translocal) gods.
Like all complex cosmologies that are cobbled together out of different bits
and pieces from different traditions over long stretches of history, the Tibetan
cosmological worldview is not always coherent or consistent. We should not
take this as implying, however, that generalizations are impossible or that
 introduction 9

figure 2 The Goddess Drabchi in her altar at Drabchi Temple, Lhasa.

Photo: P. Hackett (2006).

these categories should simply be dismissed. Emic and etic attempts at orga-
nizing the Tibetan pantheon—the ones just mentioned, but also other dichoto-
mies like Indian–Tibetan, Bönpo–Buddhist, and historical–ahistorical—can be
heuristically useful. Of course, we should always be attentive to the gaps and
inconsistencies inherent in such generalizing schemes. As an example of such
10 introduction

ambiguities, consider the fact that the protector goddess of the Dalai Lamas,
Palden Lhamo (Dpal ldan lha mo), appears to be of Tibetan origin, but has been
given an Indian pedigree by amalgamating her to Indian deities like Rematı̄
and Ekajat·ā/ı̄.17 Other deities of non-Buddhist origin, like Begtse Chamsing
(Beg tse lcam sring), have found their way into the entourage of Indian deities
(in Begtse’s case, into the entourage of Hayagrı̄va), thereby achieving a kind of
honorary Indian citizenship. Nor is the Bönpo–Buddhist dichotomy hard and
fast. As Marc Des Jardin’s chapter in this book (chapter 8) shows, Hayagrı̄va is
worshipped both by Bönpos and by Buddhists. And while one might think that
there is a clear distinction between historical human beings like Tsongkhapa
and Sakya Pan· d · ita (Sa skya Pan
·d· ita, 1182–1251) on the one hand, and ahistori-
cal deities like Mañjuśrı̄ on the other, the Tibetan tradition eventually came
to believe that both of the former historical figures were actually emanations
(sprul pa) of the latter deity. To reiterate the earlier point: it is not that organiz-
ing schemes or dichotomies, like human–nonhuman, are useless, but that they
should be approached with a critical eye.
Tensions of a more general nature arise in the attempt to reconcile Tibetan
cosmological notions to Buddhist philosophical ones. For example, is the Tibetan
belief in a “life force” (srog), or in a “soul” (bla) consistent with the Buddhist
notion that there is no self (bdag med)?18 Other similar tensions predate the
importation of Buddhism to Tibet, being endemic to Mahāyāna and tantric Bud-
dhism even in India. Hence, is reliance on mundane protector deities consistent
with the claim that the Buddha is the highest source of refuge—the only protec-
tion that one really needs? How is it possible, on the one hand, that everything
experienced in life is the result of one’s own previous actions (karma), while,
on the other, that good and evil can be the result of spirits freely intervening in
human affairs? Is beseeching a deity for blessings or requesting a spirit to cure
one’s illness consistent with a belief in karma? How can rituals that are enacted
by grieving relatives help a deceased person? Such theological questions point to
fundamental problems within the Tibetan and Indian worldviews. These issues
are not, of course, unknown either to the elite texts or to less literate traditions,
both of which attempt to resolve them in a variety of ways. Such ideological prob-
lems, however, seem to have little effect on Tibetans’ attitudes or daily behaviors
vis-à-vis the nonhuman world, or on their belief in the efficacy of ritual.

What Is a Ritual?

A great deal of literature in the field of Religious Studies has been generated
in an attempt to define, categorize, and explain ritual, or ritual’s more current
 introduction 11

iterations—categories like “ritualization” and “ritual performance.” Much of

this literature constructs and unpacks ritual as a theoretical category useful
across cultures and religious traditions.19 Some of these works emphasize the
role of “space” in the understanding of ritual; others favor the variable of “time.”
Some are more synchronic and structuralist, reducing a given ritual or ritual
corpus to fundamental units, and analyzing the relationship of these elements
to one another, and to other phenomena (like the body), so as to uncover fun-
damental patterns. Other theories are more diachronic and/or functionalist:
“How do rituals change over time?” and “What social purpose do rituals serve?”
Often in conversation with other disciplines like psychoanalysis, performance
studies, literary criticism, and communication studies, this mammoth body of
work can be valuable in helping us to think about Tibetan rituals. Several of the
chapters in this volume, in fact, make reference to this literature.
Used strategically as conversation partners, the Western theoretical litera-
ture on ritual can give us fresh insights into particular aspects of Tibetan ritual
texts and practices. But problems arise when one or another of these theories is
used as the single, univocal key to interpret an entire body of religious practices,
especially one as rich and diverse as the Tibetan ritual corpus. For example,
some theorists of ritual have stressed the importance of “emplacement”: that
rituals are enacted in physical spaces that in the process come to be constructed
as “sacred,” setting them apart from other sites that, by contrast, come to be
considered “profane.”20 This observation is useful in helping us to think about
the so-called site-rituals (sa chog) that take place prior to many Tibetan tantric
ceremonies. (See later.) But in the Tibetan context, the site rituals are seen as
preambles to the “real” (dngos gzhi) part of the ritual, where spatial consider-
ations are arguably less important.
Likewise, although many Tibetan rituals are done communally—and
therefore can plausibly be said (functionally) to reinforce social bonds and
to strenghthen communal relationships—many rituals are done in isolation.
Some ritualists even lead permanent eremetical lives, having minimal contact
with others. Some even end up repudiating social norms altogether. Whether
enacted communally or in isolation, Tibetan rituals often have as their pro-
fessed purpose (at least from an elite perspective) the obliteration of the world
of “ordinary appearances” (tha mal gyi snang zhen), which is often seen to
include the transcendence of ordinary social bonds. How does one reconcile
this emic view of ritual with the etic functionalist one that sees ritual as neces-
sarily reinforcing the social order? The point here is not that ritual theories that
stress social integration are irrelevant to the Tibetan case, but that they must be
used with care, and with an eye to Tibetans’ own theories of what ritual is and
how it functions.
12 introduction

As with function, so too with structure. Structuralist analysis can be quite

helpful in understanding ritual symbolism. It allows us to understand the
constituent elements of a given ritual, to clarify how those elements com-
bine in different instances, and to differentiate between those elements that
are essential to a given ritual type and those that are, as it were, “optional.”
There is a good case to be made for the fact that Tibetan rituals, generally
speaking, are combinations of a finite set of fundamental “subrituals” pieces
that can be combined in different ways for different purposes. (See later.)
Some of these elements—like prayers requesting inspiration and blessings
from the lineage masters (bla brgyud), a genre mentioned by both Sihlé and
Des Jardins in this volume—are found in many different kinds of rituals.
Other elements, like the use of effigies (ngar mi, ‘dra gzugs, ling ga, etc.), as
chapters 5 and 7 show, are much more specific, being found in a smaller sub-
set of rituals. Some elements, like the “burning stones” procedure described
by Des Jardins, may even be unique. A structuralist approach to Tibetan ritual
might, in theory, identify these various pieces, and in a kind of combinatorix,
show how subritual elements come together to create larger rituals of dif-
ferent genres and levels of complexity. Given the sheer number of possibili-
ties, however, one can only imagine how complex such a “matrix” of possible
combinations would have to be to do justice to the phenomenon of Tibetan
ritual as a whole.
For all these reasons, it seems unlikely that there will ever be (to borrow
a term from theoretical physics) a “Grand Unified Theory” of Tibetan ritual,
a theory that will explain all rituals everywhere in the Tibetan world once and
for all. Historical, structualist, functionalist, aesthetic, psychological, histori-
cal, literary, and other considerations will always be useful to the analysis of
Tibetan rituals, but none of these theoretical perspectives will ever be the last
word on a given ritual event, much less on the Tibetan ritual canon as a whole.
But to restate the earlier point, this does not mean that the Western scholarly
literature cannot be used strategically. There are many areas within the aca-
demic study of ritual—from the economics of patronage to the aesthetics of
liturgies to their political functions—that can shed light on individual Tibetan
case studies. Scholars of Tibetan ritual have generally taken a very pragmatic
approach to the Western theoretical literature, turning to it as needed to elu-
cidate a specific issue or problem. But Tibetologists have also eschewed total-
izing approaches—a “one size fits all” model—the “Grand Unified Theories”
mentioned earlier that attempt to explain everything ritual everywhere and
“everywhen.” The authors of those grand theories—the great luminaries like
Freud, Durkheim, Lévi-Strauss, Turner, and so on—have offered us “top-
down” models. They began with intuitions about what ritual is, and they (or
 introduction 13

their heirs) have then attempted to apply this to real-world examples. Most
Tibetologists, by contrast, have traditionally worked from the bottom up, slowly
and cautiously arriving at broader conclusions from the textual and ethno-
graphic data “up.” Such an approach is in part due to the historical evolution
of the field (more on which later). But in part, it is a principled reluctance to
allow the grand etic theories, as fascinating as these may be, to set the agenda,
or to completely displace or silence the emic voice of the text or informant.
While there is no theoretical perspective that pervades Tibetan ritual studies,
there may therefore be a metatheoretical one: the refusal to simply dismiss
indigenous accounts of the meaning of ritual in favor of the grand theoreti-
cal narratives. This more “bottom-up,” strategic and pragmatic approach to
theory—an approach that is in constant conversation with the first-order data,
and with Tibetans’ own self-understanding of the rituals they enact—will be
evident throughout this book.
The sheer diversity of ritual practices in the Tibetan world makes a simple
definition of Tibetan ritual impossible. But no student of Tibetan religions
would seriously doubt the existence of things called “rituals.” What precisely,
then, is a ritual? At this point there is always the temptation to throw up one’s
hands and to eschew any attempt at generalization or definition: “I can’t tell
you what they are, but I know’em when I see’em.” That no single definition
of Tibetan ritual will be able to do justice to the complex phenomena that fall
under this rubric does not mean that we cannot speak of the phenomenon of
Tibetan ritual. Tibetans, after all, do speak about “rituals.” Let us examine some
of the nomenclature they use.
Several Tibetan words are typically translated by the word “ritual,”21 but
probably none is semantically closer to the English word than the Tibetan choga
(cho ga).22 Choga is used to translate the Sanskrit vidhi,23 a word that can mean
“the manner or way of acting” or “a rule.” In the Indian religious context, the
word vidhi refers to the rules governing the performance of worship and sac-
rifice, or simply to the rule-governed rite itself. The Tibetan word choga does
not map perfectly onto the term “ritual,” however. Take, for example, simple
mantra recitation, ngag dawa (sngags bzla ba). The intoning of mantras is often
a public and performative act; it involves the verbalization of a defined “text”;
it is formulaic, ruled-governed, and repeatable. For all these reasons, it might
be considered a paradigmatic ritual. But in Tibetan usage, one would not call
mantra recitation itself a choga, even though it is a part of many chogas. Other
examples of “ritual” that do not fall under the rubric of cho ga could be cited,
including kora (skor ba)24 or circumambulation, and chölog (chos klog) or scrip-
ture reading. Taken together, these examples suggest that our category “ritual”
is broader than the Tibetan notion of choga.
14 introduction

What then is a choga? Indigenous lexicographical definitions are not

very helpful. One contemporary Tibetan dictionary tells us that a choga is
“a method for accomplishing a goal, a way of performing an action, a proce-
dure.”25 Aside from informing us that chogas are goal-directed and that they
have a certain systematic or procedural quality to them, the definition sheds
little light on what chogas actually are. It is perhaps more useful to examine
the way in which the term is used in common parlance. In this context a
choga is usually understood as a formal (usually tantric) rite focused on one
or more deities, and usually performed by one or more specialists. In their
most elaborate form, chogas have chanted melodies (dbyangs); they involve
the use of costumes (chas), of ritual implements—like vajras (rdo rje), bells
(dril bu), and ritual vases (bum pa)—and of hand gestures (phyag rgya); they
may involve the construction of man·d·alas made out of colored sands (rdul
tshon); and they can include dances (gar, ‘chams). A prime example of such
a complex choga is the Kālacakra empowerment (‘Dus ‘khor dbang chen).26
While a choga is, more often than not, a tantric ritual (at least in common par-
lance), there are chogas that do not focus on tantric deities27 and that, rather
than belonging to the esoteric or tantric corpus, instead belong to the exo-
teric or sūtra genre. The Vinaya rituals enacted by monastic communities
are examples of this latter type.28 Other sūtra-based rituals, like the practices
associated with the Sixteen Arhats (Gnas brtan bcu drug gi cho ga), do focus on
superhuman agents, but are not considered tantric. Like all such distinction,
the exoteric–esoteric one has its fissures; some rites that one would expect to
be exoteric—for example, the Heart Sūtra-based liturgy for repelling demons
(Sher snying bdud bzlog), and the Medicine Buddha “sūtra ritual” (Sman bla’i
mdo chog)—end up having a very tantric flavor to them. The same type of
ambiguity is also found among the Mongolian rituals for the veneration of
exoteric scriptures described by Vesna Wallace in this volume.
The dividing line between sūtric and tantric chogas, therefore, is not always
clear. What is clear is that it would be incorrect to assert that all chogas are
tantric in character. That being said, the vast majority of cho gas in the pan-
Tibetan repertoire are indeed tantric, so it behooves us to say a few words about
this important category of ritual.

Tantric Ritual

Tantric rituals, the quintessential type of chogas, typically focus on a specific

deity. They involve the recitation of fixed liturgies whose words, in theory at
least, are meant to elicit mental images or visualizations (dmigs pa or dmigs
 introduction 15

rnam): for example, the visualization of deities external to the ritual performer
(mdun bskyed), the visualization of the performer as the deity (bdag bskyed), etc.
Tantric rituals are also modular. As mentioned earlier, they are composed of
distinct subritual pieces. Mengele’s chapter in this volume (chapter 5) describes
the specific pieces that together constitute “death-deceiving” rituals, Des
Jardins does the same with an exorcism, and Pommaret argues that the typical
aspects of Bhutanese pilgrimage to Tibet also function ritualistically.
Some of these modular elements are essential to a given ritual type, oth-
ers are optional. These different elements also exist in variously abbreviated
or expanded forms. Integrating different elements of different length allows
the ritualist to draw out or to truncate a specific rite as desired.29 Although
the vast majority of rituals in use today have been written by Tibetans, the
actual words of such liturgies often derive from the Tibetan translations of
Indian canonical works or their Bönpo equivalents, or else they derive from
the terma (gter ma) or revealed “treasures” that, especially in the Nyingma
(Rnying ma) school, often have the same canonical status as the Indian Tan-
tras. In her chapter in this book (chapter 4), Yael Bentor examines the various
interpretations given to a single verse of the Guhyasamāja Tantra, a verse that
has an important ritual function in Tibetan liturgies. Chapter 2 examines
how the rites related to the nyen spirits may have their origin in a work found
in the Bönpo canon. The point is that tantric rituals make constant allusion to
canonical works—sometimes by explicitly incorporating canonical passages,
sometimes by indirectly referencing the myths, symbols, and doctrines found
in the canons.
No two tantric rituals are ever identical. Even when we focus on a single
genre of ritual—empowerment, say—different deities belonging to different
tantric classes require different subrites. Nor is the order of these elements
always precisely the same. There is variation from one class of deities to another;
and even in regard to a single deity, there are variations depending on lineage
and sect. Still, patterns are discernible. Let us work through one example, an
ideal-typical empowerment (or initiation, dbang) ritual of the “highest yoga”
tantra class, to get a sense of these modular elements.

• Preliminary rituals (sta gon) or preparations (lhag gnas, sbyor ba). When
the empowerment is offered over two days, the preliminary rituals often
take place on the first day.
○ Preliminaries related to the site spirit (sa yi lha mo sta gon). Since the
site of the empowerment is seen as belonging to a spirit, it is first nec-
essary to ritually take possession of the site (sa chog).
○ Related to deity’s universe or man· d·ala (dkyil ‘khor gyi lha sta gon).
16 introduction

▪ The creation of a physical man · d·ala (e.g., drawn on cloth or made

from colored powders).
▪ Using the physical man·d·ala as a basis, the “generation” of the deity,
the deity’s palace, and its surrounding areas as a visualized form
(dam tshig pa bskyed pa).
▪ The invitation and melding of the actual deities of the man · d·ala into
the visualized image (ye shes pa spyan drangs nas thim pa).
▪ Offerings (mchod pa), praises (bstod pa), etc.
○ Related to the vase(s) (bum pa sta gon). Generating the deities inside
the ritual vase(s) that will be used to grant empowerment, making
offerings to the deities and reciting praises.
○ Related to the disciple (slob ma sta gon). Certain procedures and rituals
to prepare the disciple for the empowerment, which include impart-
ing bodhisattva and tantric vows, blessings, instructions on dream
analysis, etc.
• The actual ritual (dngos gzhi), the bestowal of the empowerment (dbang
bskur ba).
○ Vase empowerment (bum dbang).
○ Secret empowerment (gsang dbang).
○ Wisdom-gnosis empowerment (shes rab ye shes kyi dbang).
○ Word empowerment (tshig dbang), also known as the fourth empower-
ment (dbang bzhi pa).
• The post-ritual (rjes chog) or concluding actions (mjug gi bya ba), which
may include:
○ A burnt offering ritual, so as to expiate faults of omission and commis-
sion in the enactment of the rite, and so as to “satisfy the deity” (lhag chad
kyi nyes pa zhi ba dang lha tshim pa’i phyir zhi rgyas kyi sbyin sreg bya ba).
○ Additional offerings and praises to the deities, and torma offerings to
the protectors (dkyil ‘khor mchod bstod dang phyogs skyong la gtor ma
dbul ba).
○ Prostrating and requesting the deity’s tolerance in the face of errors
committed during the ritual (dkyil ‘khor la phyag byas te bzod gsol bya
ba).
○ Requesting that the deities to return to their abodes (ye shes pa gshegs
su gsol ba).
○ Dissolution of the visualized palace into one’s self and destruction of
the sand man · d·ala (dam tshig pa rang la bsdus te rdul tshon chur gshegs
pa)
○ Dedication of merit (bsngo ba).
○ Prayers for good fortune (bkra shis pa’i tshigs bcad).
 introduction 17

These are just the bare-bones outline of an empowerment ritual. Some of these
pieces are themselves internally complex and contain subrituals of their own.
For example, the “vase empowerment”—the first of the four-part “acutal rite”—
typically contains eleven parts.30 “Offering,” in turn, is often classified into:

• Outer offerings (phyi’i mchod pa)—water, perfume, light, food, music,

etc.—that please the five senses.
• Inner offering (nang mchod): impure substances—the so-called five
meats and five nectars (sha lnga bdud rtsi lnga)—transformed into pure
ambrosia that generates bliss.
• Offering of ritual cakes (gtor ma).
• Offering of the entire universe (man· d·al).
What is more, the inner and torma offerings often are further subdivided into
distinct subrituals, such as cleansing, purification, generation as nectar, multi-
plication in quantity, and the actual offering to the god(s).
As regards the empowerment as a whole, other modules may be added at
different points throughout the ceremony, including praises (bstod pa), suppli-
cations (gsol ba ‘debs pa), requests for blessings (byin ‘bebs), and so forth.
It is, of course, beyond the scope of this introduction to discuss even a
single rite like empowerment in any detail, but this very brief overview at least
conveys something of the complexity of a Tibetan tantric ritual. It also gives one
a sense of its modular character. The relationship between the elements, the
relative positions of the parts vis-à-vis one another, and the relationship between
parts and whole give rituals, I would contend, a narrative quality. Understand-
ing this aspect of tantric ritual—its logic, or, perhaps more appropriately, its
“storyline”—is an important part of understanding such rites. Take the case
of empowerment. Before one can be granted a favor (empowerment), one
must first invite the individual (the god) who is going to grant such a kindness.
Before that can take place, however, one must ready the home (the palace). But
to have a home in the first place, one must first acquire the land from its owner
(the site-procurement rite). The favor comes at a price (the commitments that
must be taken), and both before and after the favor is granted, gifts (offerings)
are appropriate. Of course, this is an oversimplification of what is actually a
very complex “plot.” But this embedded narrative quality is an important part
of many tantric rituals. In the life-prolongation ritual described by Mengele
in this book, for example, the narrative is one of getting malevolent spirits to
accept a substitute for the life of the person being threatened. Sometimes nar-
rative elements are not explicit in the ritual itself, but are rather presumed as
part of the background lore that undergirds a liturgy: the “charter myths” that
explain how certain spirits and deities came to have the powers that they do.
18 introduction

In other instances, narratives have to be elaborated in the aftermath of rituals

to explain why a certain ritual functioned, or why it did not. Not all chogas have
very complex plots,31 but most seem to have at least some narrative quality to
them, even if at times these are only implicit.
Some of the modular elements found in an empowerment ritual—for
example, the act of generating oneself as the deity, making offerings,32 and the
concluding expiatory rites—are ubiquitous to tantric ritual generally. They are
found in deity-yoga practices (sādhana, sgrub thabs), in burnt-offerings (sbyin
sreg), in consecration rites (rab gnas), and in many other types of tantric liturgies.
Modular elements like self-generation, offering, and expiation can also serve
as the central theme of stand-alone rites, of sādhana, offering rituals (mchod
pa’i cho ga), and confessional rites (bskang bshags), respectively. Some ritual
texts provide only a bare-bones outline and expect ritual experts to know how
to “accessorize” them, changing elements as needed for different purposes.33
Expertise as a writer of tantric liturgies or as a director of tantric rituals—for
example, as an umdzé (dbu mdzad) or chant leader—is in large part determined
by one’s knowledge of how to modify liturgical elements, and by one’s ability
to manipulate these modular pieces in a way that makes sense, a point made
by Cantwell and Mayer in this volume. Put another way, an expert is someone
who has knowledge of “the grammar” of the elements of these various subritu-
als, someone who can combine them into meaningful wholes.

The Organization of the Tibetan Ritual Corpus

Tibetan scholars and ritual experts have tried to bring order to this unwieldy
mass of ritual materials in a variety of ways. In some instances, all of the mate-
rial related to a single deity was brought together into compendia called “cycles”
(skor), or “collected actions” (las tshogs).34 Nicolas Sihlé’s chapter in this volume
(chapter 1) discusses one such compendium used by Buddhist tantric priests
in Chongkor village, as does Des Jardins chapter (chapter 8), which focuses on
the cycle of rituals used in the Bönpo monastery of Yeshé. In their most exten-
sive forms, such collections, which can be several volumes in length, might
contain the Tantra (rgyud) of a given deity, the history (lo rgyus) of its transmis-
sion, empowerment liturgies, sādhanas, instructions (gdams ngag), important
commentaries on the practice (khrid), retreat manuals, torma offering rituals,
burnt-offering rites, consecration liturgies, protector-deity practices, prayers,
and other practices of a more practical or magical nature (e.g., rituals to procure
long life and protection, rites to defeat enemies, to create magical pills, etc.).35 In
their organization, these collections often evince an internal logic, and perhaps
 introduction 19

even a “narrative,” of their own. For example, beginning from the end of the
collection just mentioned and working forward: in order to be able to elicit the
intercession (phrin las) of the deity—for instance, the boon of long life—one
must first achieve a closeness (bsnyen sgrub) to the deity through the prolonged
practice of sādhana and retreat, and through the periodic offering of things
like tormas. But in order to practice sādhanas and torma offerings in the first
place, one must first receive empowerment. Moreover, for an empowerment
to be valid, there must exist an unbroken lineage that goes back to the human
being(s) who received the Tantra. So, even in the organization of the collected
rites of a deity—root Tantra, lineage history, empowerment, sādhana, torma,
and minor rites—we see an implicit logical or narrative structure.36 There are
dozens if not hundreds of such collections in the Tibetan literary corpus.
So much for collections based on a single deity. Other collections assemble
together the rites of different deities. Examples include the Bari Hundred (Ba ri
brgya rtsa)37 of the translator Bari Rinchen Drag (Ba ri Rin chen grags, 1040–
1112), and the Jewel Source: The Sādhanas of an Ocean of Deities38 of Tāranātha
(1575–1634), works that are compilations of the sādhanas and/or permission-
rituals (rjes gnang) of hundreds of different deities. And then there is, pretty
much in a league of its own, The Great Storehouse of Precious Treasures39 of
Jamgön Kongtrül (‘Jam mgon kong sprul, 1813–99), a mammoth work in
111 volumes that assembles under a single rubric a variety of (mostly) ritual
practices discovered by various (mostly) Nyingma tertön (gter ston) or “treasure
revealers.” Neither the single-deity “collected actions” collections, nor these
larger multiple-deity compendia are mere anthologies. They are attempts to
organize vast portions of the elite ritual corpus. As such, they are not only
bibliographical undertakings, but also theoretical musings on the nature and
function of ritual. Investigating the logic of these works and drawing out their
implicit theoretical underpinnings remains one of the great challenges ahead
of us in the field of Tibetan ritual studies.
Most of the examples examined up to this point have been drawn from the
elite, textual tradition of tantric ritual practice. Scholars have often used the term
“elite” to refer to soteriologically focused practices whose ostensible goal is the
attainment of enlightenment. The elite tradition is often seen as exemplified by
large, scholastic, male-monastic institutions. The opposite of “elite” is “popular.”
Like the other dichotomies mentioned earlier in this Introduction, the elite–
popular one is not without its problems.40 As just mentioned, while the single-
deity compendia often begin on a soteriological note (empowerments, sādhanas,
etc.), they often end with rites that are more pragmatic (magical pill and amulet
creation, etc.). But the elite–popular (or soteriological–pragmatic) distinction is
problematic for other reasons as well. On the one hand, it is not uncommon to
20 introduction

find nonmonastic, institutionally unaffiliated, and illiterate individuals, includ-

ing women, engaged in highly specialized, complex enlightenment-directed
practices. On the other hand, monks of the elite scholastic institutions, like the
Gelug monastic universities or densas (gdan sa), often engage in practices that
would typically be characterized as “popular.” For example, it is not uncommon
for the monks of these institutions to engage in wealth-rituals (g.yang ‘gugs) or
to go to a local lay diviner or healer. There are even instances of illiterate village
women acting as the official oracles of the regional houses or khangtsen (khang
tshan) of these elite institutions. So the boundaries between elite and nonelite
have always been porous. To dismiss the distinction altogether, however, seems
a bit like throwing the baby out with the bath water. Nonetheless, it is wise to
treat such a distinction with a certain amount of caution. With these caveats,
we now turn from the practices of “elite” salvation-centered rites to the more
pragmatic rituals of ordinary life.

Magic and Pragmatic Rituals

In traditional Tibetan societies, when a family member becomes seriously ill,

or when bad luck befalls a household, a monastery or a community, diviners41
are usually consulted to determine the cause of the misfortune. Whatever a
diviner’s diagnosis may be—whether it is past negative karma, the exhaustion
of merit, malevolent spirits (‘dre srin), psychic pollution (s/grib), impurity (mi
gtshang ba), others’ “badmouthing”42 or black magic (ngan sngags)—ritual is
almost always part of what will set things aright. If it is black magic or an evil
spirit that is the cause of the problem, then ritual is one of the most effective
means of solving it. In such cases, a wrathful ritual is usually called for: a rite
to catch and exorcise (sel ba, skrod pa, bzlog pa) the demonic influence or to
overturn the power of the curse (byad kha). Or else one might resort to a “ran-
som ritual” (glud), in which an effigy is offered to a spirit as a substitute for the
afflicted individual or group. When the cause of misfortune is the more ethe-
real “pollution,” then rituals for its purification (s/grib dag byed kyi cho ga) might
be performed—using tormas, ablutions (s/grib khrus), or complex thread-cross
structures called drib-dö (grib mdos). But even when the diagnosis is “karmic”—
when the tragedy is seen as being the result of a person’s past actions or as the
effect of unresolved karmic debt (lan chags)43—rituals can be enacted to restore
a person’s merit, their store of “good karma,” and to avert calamity by repay-
ing the debt owed to karmic “creditors.” In this case, merit-making or offering
rituals are usually called for. The family might then sponsor the reading of the
 introduction 21

canon in the local monastery, or they may request the recitation of 100,000
repetitions of the famous prayer to the goddess Tārā.
Even when individuals suffering from an illness have already decided to
follow the path of medical treatment, they will often go to diviners to determine
what rituals might increase the efficacy of the healing process. In this case,
ritual is seen as a complement to a more materialistic, nonreligious course of
action. While rituals may not be able to counteract every mishap that befalls
human beings (see Mengele’s discussion of death-prevention rituals in this
volume), rituals are not only considered useful, but they are also often seen as
indispensable to success in a variety of human affairs. They are enacted not
only once calamity strikes, but also to avert mishap in the first place. Rituals
are performed, or more often sponsored, not only to cure physical and mental
illness and bad luck, but also for protection, so that such calamities never befall
one. Rituals also insure a positive outcome to a variety of worldly endeavors
that include travel, business ventures, harvests, love, and warfare. (The last of
these is the subject of chapter 6 in this book, and the list compiled by Cuevas
alludes to all of these as possible goals.) There are even rituals to insure the
efficacy of rituals, and as we have seen, rituals to make up for mistakes or
shortcomings that might occur during the performance of other rituals. And
when, despite all attempts at ritual intervention, death strikes, there are rituals
for purifying and disposing of the bodily remains of the deceased, to help the
departed in their journey through the intermediate state, and to insure that
the dead will not return as ghosts. There are also, of course, rituals like powa
(‘pho ba), the “transference of consciousness,” that assure rebirth in pure lands,
heavenly states where enlightenment is guaranteed.
As mentioned earlier, the soteriological–pragmatic dichotomy is not with-
out its aporias. Hence, there are a variety of rituals that have both pragmatic and
soteriological uses. For example, amulets and pills protect one from harm in
the here and now, but these are often also touted as being capable of granting
liberation through merely wearing and ingesting them, respectively. And while
village ritualists frequently often do “transference of consciousness” rites for
the deceased as part of their clerical duties, this practice is also part of elite,
soteriologically focused cycles of practices. The dividing line between soterio-
logical and pragmatic is therefore fuzzy. At one end of the spectrum there are
clearly soteriological rites, like the sādhanas or “proximity retreats” when done
by the highly literate elite—rites that Jamgön Kongtrül calls “the essence of the
path” (lam gyi ngo bo). At the other end, there are magical acts, like the ones
described in chapter 7, some of which aim at such mundane goals as winning
at archery and dice, arousing the love of a woman, or catching thieves.44 These
22 introduction

“minor rites,” as well as the more complex and scripted “army repelling” (dmag
bzlog) rituals mentioned by Gentry in chapter 6, are not directly concerned
with enlightenment, having more immediate and pragmatic goals. At the same
time, success in these more magical practices is sometimes said to depend on
the metaphysical ties that a ritualist has to his or her previous incarnations,
ties whose validation require extensive literary elaboration, something that
chapter 6 explores. According to the elite tradition at least, success in magic is
also said to depend on soteriologically grounded practice—for example, on the
achievement of sādhana-based “proximity” to the deity.45 What is more, what
distinguishes Buddhist magic from black magic is said to be prior training in
Mahāyāna ethics. This is reinforced in most of these pragmatic rituals through
liturgical elements such as “the correction of the motivation” that is found at
the beginning of almost every Tibetan rite. So, while some rituals can clearly be
said to be more directly soteriological and others more pragmatic or magical,
the elite tradition goes to great lengths to couch (and therefore to legitimize)
the latter by relating them to the former, as Cathy Cantwell and Robert Mayer’s
discussion of killing rites in this volume shows. All of that being said, just as
one person’s tutelary deity is sometimes another person’s demon, it has also
been the case that one person’s compassionate magic will be seen by someone
else as sorcery. The point, of course, is that what constitutes soteriological ritu-
als and sorcery is (sometimes at least) in the eye of the beholder.

The Place of Ritual Studies in the Changing Fields

of Buddhology and Tibetology

The field of Buddhist Studies has changed significantly in the past four
decades, and these changes have created the conditions for the flourishing of
fields like ritual studies. Outlining these shifts will help us to understand why
Tibetologists have become more interested in rituals—more interested than
they were just a few years ago.
Earlier generations of Buddhologists were concerned almost exclusively
with texts, and not with “texts” in the broad way that we understand the term
today, but with written documents. These texts were studied not so much
because of what they told us about the people or the societies in which they
were written, but because of the ideas—the doctrines and philosophy—con-
tained within them. Early Buddhology was therefore chiefly the study of ideas
found in doctrinal texts. This concern with the classical and literary was the
result, on the one hand, of the (largely unspoken) presupposition, inherited
from the European Renaissance, that ancient and classical culture was more
 introduction 23

pure and worthy of study: that it represented a highpoint in civilization, the

pinnacle of human achievement from which there had been a steady decline.
On the other hand, it was the result of a privileging of the textual over the mate-
rial and oral, the legacy of Protestantism. To the extent that there was a concern
with “culture” at all, it was a concern with elite institutions, with the culture of
the writers of texts, who were almost exclusively monks.
Because of the preoccupation with origins, early Buddhology also tended to
privilege Indian and Chinese Buddhism. The study of Buddhism in other soci-
eties—societies in which Buddhism entered at a later date, as was the case with
Tibet—tended to be neglected or else was seen as a handmaiden of Buddhist
Indology or Sinology. Hence, Tibetan Buddhist Studies was not initially seen
as an autonomous subarea of Buddhology, but rather as a kind supplement
to Indian Buddhist Studies. As late as the 1970s, we find scholars like David
Seyfort Ruegg having to argue for the autonomy of Tibetan Buddhist Studies,
indicating the persistence of this mindset up to recent times. Moreover, being
concerned principally with the ideas found in written texts, few earlier scholars
wrote on the social, political, and economic contexts of the societies in which
Buddhism flourished even in classical times, much less in the modern period.
The earliest Buddhologists were also usually armchair scholars who worked
with texts that had been brought to Europe and North America by missionar-
ies and colonial officers. Rarely, if ever, did they go into the field, and rarely did
they speak the languages that they read. A few even admitted their reticence to
travel to a Buddhist society for fear that this might taint their ideal picture of
“pure” Buddhism, a bubble that they realized would, of necessity, burst when
they entered the real and messy world of a lived Buddhist tradition. This portrait
of early Buddhology is painted in broad strokes. There were always, among the
early scholars, exceptions to the rule, a few Buddhologists who were concerned
with more than written texts, and a few who actually lived for periods of time in
Buddhist societies. That being said, the overall picture is not inaccurate.
The most important changes in the discipline have arguably transpired in
the past three or four decades. These changes have been profound. They are
transformations in what we study, in how we study it, in the tools at our dis-
posal, and most recently in the media we use to disseminate our research. The
notion of “text,” for example, is much broader than it once was. While we still
study written, doctrinal, and philosophical texts, we also study Buddhist biog-
raphies, fiction, plays, and a variety of other narrative texts. We still study the
written works of the elite male clergy, but increasingly we study the writings and
oral traditions of nuns and of the Buddhist laity. We not only study what Bud-
dhists have written or what they think, but also what they do in both elite ritu-
als and in popular practices. (Chapter 11 by Françoise Pommaret on Bhutanese
24 introduction

pilgrimage to Tibet in this volume is a good example of this.) We also focus

on nonverbal “texts,” reading Buddhism through the lens of material culture—
from high art to kitschy plastic Buddhas; and from archaeology to epigraphy,
or as one scholar has put it, “from bones to stones.” In short, having realized
that our work had yielded only a partial picture of Buddhism, one that excluded
a good part of Buddhists’ lived experience, and what most Buddhists actually
did, we have increasingly turned our attention, as a corrective, precisely to those
areas that had previously been neglected, including the study of ritual.
While the textual and elite focus of classical Buddhology is still very much
alive, Buddhist Studies today is also concerned with nonelite institutions and
practices, and with traditions that are in many instances hybrids of Buddhist
and non-Buddhist religious elements. (Chapter 8 by Marc Des Jardin in this
volume is a fine example of this.) While we continue to be interested in classi-
cal Buddhist institutions, we are also now concerned with new religious move-
ments that are often considered (by elite Buddhists at least) to transgress the
bounds of orthodoxy. Indeed, the very notion of a single thing called “Bud-
dhism” has itself been problematized, if not quite abandoned.
As the object of our study has changed, so too have our methods. Eschew-
ing broad generalizations, our studies now deal with more specific periods,
places, individuals, and institutions. The ahistoricism of earlier scholarship has
been replaced by a keen historical consciousness. And scholars, for the most
part, no longer sit in armchairs. They go into the field. Indeed, it is often a
requirement for doctoral students to spend at least a year in a Buddhist culture,
whatever their area of specialty. Increasingly, Buddhologists find themselves
asking questions about power, material culture, the production of goods, and
forms of exchange, thereby bringing the methods of political science and eco-
nomics to bear on their studies. Finally, information technology is revolution-
izing the field in ways that we never could have imagined. All these changes
amount to a paradigm shift within the discipline of Buddhist studies.
The field of Tibetology has seen similar changes, becoming institution-
ally autonomous, more diverse in terms of what it studies, and much more
interdisciplinary and comparative. Institutionally, what began as a meet-
ing of a handful of “young Tibetologists” just three decades ago is today the
International Association of Tibetan Studies, a professional organization that
hosts a meeting with hundreds of paper presentations by scholars from all
over the world.46 These scholars continue to work on classical, doctrinal texts,
but increasingly they also devote themselves to other genres of literature—to
biography, classical narrative literature, history (both classical and modern),
and fiction. Scholars increasingly turn to China and Central Asia to find his-
torical antecedents for the texts and practices they investigate, and so India
 introduction 25

is no longer the only or most relevant comparative reference point for Tibe-
tologists. Tibetan studies scholars still work on philosophical texts—indeed,
after a “dry spell” in this area, Tibetan philosophy is enjoying something of
a comeback—but in the past decades more attention has been paid to the
practical dimensions of religion, and not only to Buddhist practices, but also
to those of Bön. While the field has yet to turn its attention to Tibetan Islam
in any significant way, it is just a matter of time before it moves in that direc-
tion as well. Tibetology has also expanded methodologically. An increasing
number of scholars work in archaeology, economics, sociology, geography,
literary studies, medicine, and Tibetan art, to name just a few of the direc-
tions that the discipline has taken. The cultural turn and the increased inter-
disciplinarity of Tibetan studies have opened up an unprecedented space for
the study of ritual.

The Present Volume

A miniscule subfield just a few decades ago, Tibetan ritual studies has grown in
leaps and bounds. Since the 1960s, the number of scholarly articles on Tibetan
ritual in Western languages has more or less doubled annually. Today, there
are over a hundred articles per year in this area. The subfield has not only
changed quantitatively, but also qualitatively. A few decades ago Tibetan rituals
were, more often than not, the concern of anthropologists who mostly stud-
ied the ritual lives of Himalayan peoples in remote village settings. Detailed
studies of elite ritual traditions were rare. Most anthropologists could not read
classical Tibetan, and therefore had to rely on informants’ accounts for their
interpretations of these rites. Many of the anthropologists who work on Tibetan
ritual today, by contrast, have been trained in the classical texts. Some are even
interested, as Nicolas Sihlé is, in how even moderately literate traditions (that
of Chongkor village on the Nepal–Tibet frontier) understand, appropriate,
and transmit written ritual texts—not only as physical objects, as verbal and
somatic liturgies, as emblems of status and lineage, but also as doctrinally and
philosophically laden works.
Although the first and last chapters in this volume are written by anthro-
pologists, it is noteworthy that the rest of the chapters are not. Ritual is clearly
no longer the sole purview of the Tibetan anthropologist. As the study of Tibet
has become more interdisciplinary, so too has the subfield of Tibetan ritual
studies. Scholars who work on rituals can be found in fields as disparate as phi-
lology, literary studies, history, religious studies, and ethnomusicology. While
the present volume does not purport to represent anything like the full gamut
26 introduction

of contemporary research on Tibetan rituals—among other things, our focus

here is only on religious rituals47—this collection does give one a sense of the
broad range of questions that interest scholars, and of the lenses they use to
make sense of these practices.
Just as anthropologists who study Tibetan ritual have become more inter-
ested in literary texts, Tibetologists who study classical texts have become
increasingly interested in ritual practices. How does a specific ritual or corpus
of rituals draw on the doctrines and narratives found in classical texts? Samten
Karmay, a pioneer in elaborating the connection between myths and rituals,
continues his work on this topic in his chapter in this book (chapter 2), this
time with a focus on the mythic foundations of the nyen spirit cult. Karmay
shows how texts preserved in the Bönpo canon (Bon po bka’ ‘gyur) provide
us with some of the narrative background against which to understand rituals
related to the nyen.
Because so much more is known today about the Indian and Tibetan
tantric textual corpus, and because we have access to a much wider range of
texts—including the very early works discovered in the Dunhuang caves—
textual scholars today have the tools for more focused and detailed studies
of specific ritual traditions. Chapter 3 by Cathy Cantwell and Robert Mayer
focuses on a body of ritual works that belong to the Mahāyoga Tantra, includ-
ing rituals related to the little studied cycle of the Tantra Lasso of Methods (Thabs
kyi zhags pa). Cantwell and Mayer are interested in the similarities and dif-
ferences between the Dunhuang Mahāyoga texts and Indian Buddhist tantra,
but in this volume they are especially concerned with the continuities and dis-
continuities between the texts found at Dunhuang and the Mahāyoga rituals
practiced throughout Tibetan history up to the present day. The similarities
between the Dunhuang ritual traditions and those enacted today, a thousand
years later, are indeed quite remarkable. Like Cantwell and Mayer’s work, Yael
Bentor’s chapter (chapter 4) is also concerned with issues of continuity and
change, although of a different kind. Bentor shows how a single, pivotal verse
in the Guhyasamāja Tantra, a verse with important ritual uses, becomes the
object of divergent interpretations. As Bentor’s shows, it is the malleability of
this verse—a verse used in various Guhyasamāja rituals—that allows for differ-
ent philosophical positions to be read into it. Hundreds of years of exegetical
precedent, as the reader will see, does not stop Tibetans from offering their
own, unique doctrinal interpretations of pivotal passages from the Tantras—
passages with important ritual uses.
The next four chapters in this book deal with specific types of ritual. Irm-
gard Mengele focuses on an Indo-Tibetan genre of ritual known as chilu (‘chi
bslu) or “death-deception,” a rite for averting premature death. Mengele traces
 introduction 27

the genealogy of such practices and not only describes several of them in detail,
but also treats some of doctrinal problems that the notion of “cheating death”
raises. Does cheating death mean cheating karma? Mengele is also interested
in what the tradition has to say about the efficacy of such rites—about when
they work and when they do not. The issue of efficacy (and its rhetoric) is
also a central concern of chapter 6. There, James Gentry is interested in exor-
cism or dogpa (zlog pa) rites, and more specifically in rituals used to repel or
vanquish armies, magdog (dmag zlog). His chapter focuses on one figure, the
great “expeller of the Mongols” Sogdogpa Lodrö Gyaltsen (Sog bzlog pa Blo
gros rgyal mtshan, 1552–1624). Gentry is especially interested in Sogdogpa’s
self-portrayal as a ritual destroyer of Mongolian armies and in the arguments
Sogdogpa uses to show that his rituals work—arguments based on prophe-
cies, signs, and dreams. Reading the sociopolitical function of these rituals
through the interstices of Sogdogpa’s mostly supernaturalistic account, Gentry
concludes that these rites (also) had a variety of this-worldly outcomes—for
example, allowing Sogdogpa to create for himself a niche in the turbulent polit-
ical world in which he lived. Bryan Cuevas’s chapter (chapter 7) also deals with
the topic of ritual magic, and like Gentry’s, his chapter focuses on the work of
a single author—in Cuevas’s case, the famous Nyingmapa polymath Ju Mipam
(‘Ju Mi pham, 1846–1912). Mipam’s compilation of a wide range of magical
rites in a work called The Calf ’s Nipple, or Beu Bum (be’u ‘bum), is one of the
most important extant collections of this type. Cuevas explains the organizing
principles at work in the collection. He also provides us with a fascinating and
nuanced discussion of the term “magic,” exploring the extent to which such
a category—a category with a long history in the study of religion—can shed
light on the practices found in Mipam’s compendium. Chapter 7 concludes
with a table of contents to The Calf ’s Nipple, providing readers with a glimpse
of the actual rites found in this genre of text. Of the four chapters that deal with
specific ritual cycles, Marc Des Jardin’s (chapter 8) is concerned with a particu-
lar Bönpo healing and exorcistic ritual based on the deity Hayagrı̄va. The rite
is the specialty of monks at the Yeshé Monastery (Ye shes dgon) in Nyagrong
(Nyag rong), eastern Tibet. Aside from describing the very dramatic rite of “the
burning stones,” Des Jardins considers a variety of broader issues: What makes
rituals popular? How useful is the Buddhist–Bön dichotomy in categorizing or
explaining rituals? The ritual of the burning stones is a particularly useful site
for exploring this latter question, given that it involves a deity that is propitiated
by both Buddhists and Bönpos.
Scholarly work on Tibetan ritual to date has tended to focus on Tibet and
on the Tibetan-speaking portions of Nepal. The present volume expands the
discussion to Mongolia, a region that has been influenced by Tibet for more
28 introduction

than 700 years. Chapter 9 by Vesna Wallace deals with Mongolian rituals used
in the veneration of Mahāyāna scriptures. The worship of these texts has both
private and public dimensions; it also has a wide array of goals, including heal-
ing, merit-making, and protection (of individuals and the state). These rites,
however, also have more mundane objectives, like finding a wealthy husband,
and even the preservation of dead bodies. Among other things, Wallace’s study
raises the question of the boundary between ritual and nonritual religious prac-
tices. While all of these different techniques for venerating scriptures seem to
involve some level of ritualism, a few appear to be quite formal and even tantric
in character, resembling elite tantric chogas. Others are much more informal.
The diversity of sūtra veneration rituals serves for Wallace, therefore, as an
entrée into theoretical reflection concerning the nature of ritual itself. If Wal-
lace’s chapter problematizes the boundaries between what is and is not ritual,
Jared Lindahl’s chapter complexifies the boundary between Buddhist and non-
Buddhist religions at an important site for the performance of rituals: Mon-
golia’s sacred mountains. Through an examination of incense offering rites,
called sangchö (bsang mchod), Lindahl shows how Buddhist rites “reinforce and
even reenact” the conversion of the Mongols to Buddhism. Rather than see-
ing the mountain veneration cult in Mongolia as a syncretic or hybrid form
incorporating Buddhist and “shamanistic” elements, Lindahl sees them as a
conscious strategy on the part of Buddhists to map Buddhism and its pantheon
onto the Mongolian landscape.
Mongolia is at the far northeastern periphery of the region influenced
by Tibetan culture; at the other extreme, in the far south, is Bhutan. The last
chapter of this book (chapter 11) is Françoise Pommaret’s narrative of what
it was like to accompany a group of Bhutanese pilgrims to Tibet. Although a
great deal has been written about Tibetan pilgrimage in recent years, nothing
has been written about Bhutanese pilgrimage practices. Chapter 11 gives us a
glimpse into Bhutanese pilgrims’ encounter with Tibet, Tibetans, and Tibetan
Buddhism. Pommaret also uses this particular pilgrimage as a way of engag-
ing the broader question of the relationship of pilgrimage to ritual. She argues
that much of what takes place in a pilgrimage belongs to the ritual corpus, in
the sense that we have here religious action performed with a religious guide
for defined aims with a special attitude and in a well-defined spatio-temporal
dimension.
While the chapters in this book are certainly not exhaustive of the field of
Tibetan ritual studies, they do give one a glimpse of the very exciting directions
the field is taking. Given what I have mentioned about the changes in the field
of Tibetan studies in the past decades, it should not be surprising that anthro-
pologists, historians, philologists, and specialists in religious studies—scholars
 introduction 29

of Buddhism and Bön, and of Tibet, Nepal, Mongolia, and Bhutan—should

be able to have such a successful conversation about this thing called “ritual.”
The editor, in some ways an interloper to this field, would like to express his
gratitude to all of the contributors for having been allowed to be the instigator
of this fascinating dialogue.

notes
Most of the chapters in this volume were originally presented at an international confer-
ence, “The Practice and Theory of Tibetan Ritual,” held in May of 2007 under the aus-
pices of the Dalai Lama Endowment at the University of California Santa Barbara. The
conference, which brought participants from as far away as Israel and Bhutan, was
made possible by a generous gift from Robert and Marlene Veloz. The editor wishes to
express his gratitude to the Velozes for their support. For their help with conference
organization, the editor would like to thank Ms. Joy Davis, Dr. Gregory Hillis, Ms. Venus
Nasri, and especially the Buddhist Studies graduate students at UCSB. Finally, thanks
to Joel Gruber and Nathan McGovern for their help with the compilation of the
bibliography and with proofreading, respectively; and thanks to Zoran Lazovic for com-
piling the index.
1. Tibetan calendrical specialists also identify certain days in the yearly cycle when
specific rituals—for example, the hanging of prayer flags (rlung rta) and funerary prac-
tices—should not be performed, but these are rare compared to the number of auspi-
cious days in the calendar. In contrast to this, certain days are identified as auspicious
for doing specific rituals—like homa or burnt offerings (byin sreg).
2. Indeed, so much ritual is enacted in the first Tibetan month that it is also known
as the “ritual month” (cho ga zla ba).
3. Relatively few such rituals are found in the literary corpus, but this is probably
because many of these rites were transmitted orally by village priests, constituting infor-
mal traditions and practices that were never recorded in written texts. Examples of for-
mal rituals and prayers for abundant harvests (lo tog la phan pa’i cho ga, lo tog rgyas pa’i
smon lam); rituals for ransoming harvests from malevolent spirits (lo glud); and rituals
of praise, supplication, and/or offering to “the god(s) of the field” (often Brahmā) can be
found in written form, but many agricultural ritual traditions—like the tradition of tak-
ing the scriptures in a procession of the fields in the springtime (‘ong bskor), or that of
offering the first fruits of the harvest (thog phud)—constitute folk practices that, to my
knowledge, never found their way into formal written liturgies. Likewise, we find in the
literary canon rituals for the bathing and purification of livestock (rkang bzhi khrus chog),
for ransoming their lives when they are attacked by evil spirits (phyugs glud), and for
healing animal diseases (phyugs nad sel thabs). But one surmises that there were proba-
bly dozens of other types of rituals related to livestock—rituals that, being local, orally
transmitted traditions, were never written down. Only more extensive ethnographic
work will give us a complete picture of the agricultural and livestock rituals practiced
among Tibetan farmers and nomads.
30 introduction

4. See, for example, Hugh Richardson, Ceremonies of the Lhasa Year, ed. Michael
Aris (London: Serindia Publications, 1993), where about fifty days per year are identified
as being set aside for one or another (usually religious) purpose.
5. See, for example, the claim of the Heaped Jewel Sūtra, cited in Longchen
Rabjam, A Treasure Trove of Scriptural Transmission: A Commentary on The Precious
Treasury of the Basic Space of Phenomena, tr. and ed. Richard Barron et al. (Junction City,
CA: Padma Publishing, 2001), 93. The sūtra passage reads:

There are no mantras or mudras in this.

There is no specific need at all in this,
Even for mandalas, deities and offerings.
There is no need to prepare ritual articles or perform formal ceremonies.

6. For an accessible introduction to the Tibetan pantheon from an art historical

perspective, see Christian Luczanits, “Infinite Variety: Form and Appearance in Tibetan
Buddhist Art, Part I,” Lotus Leaves 7/4 (2005): 1–9; “Part II,” Lotus Leaves 8/1 (2005):
7–14.
7. Oracles are known under a variety of names like lhapa (lha pa), literally “god per-
son,” as well as “body receptacle” (sku rten), “dharma lord” (chos rje), and “hero” (dpa’ bo).
8. See the special issue of Revue d’Etudes Tibétains 2 (April 2003) on the lha srin sde
brgyad; also Stephan Beyer, The Cult of Tārā: Magic and Ritual in Tibet (Berkeley, CA:
University of California Press, 1978), 292–301; and also Mengele’s chapter in this volume.
9. ‘jig rten las ‘das pa’i lha, literally, “gods who are beyond the world.”
10. ‘jig rten pa’i lha, “gods of the world.”
11. See Erik Pema Kunsang and Marcia Binder Schmidt, Blazing Splendor: The
Memoirs of the Dzogchen Yogi Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche (Boudnath: Rangjung Yeshe
Publications, 2005), 19, 375n22, and 377n41.
12. One is reminded here of the recent controversies surrounding the “protector”
Dorje Shugden (Rdo rje shugs ldan); see Georges Dreyfus, “The Shukden Affair: History
and Nature of a Quarrel,” Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 21/2
(1999): 227–70. But this is only one of a number of such controversies that has existed
throughout Tibetan history. Sle lung rje drung Bzhad pa’i rdo rje (b. 1679), for example,
cites such controversies as the motivation for his composition of the important Lives of
an Ocean of Oath-Bound Protectors of the Teachings; Dam can bstan srung rgya mtsho rnam
par thar pa cha shas tsam brjod pa sngon med legs bshad, 2 vols. (Leh, Ladakh: T. S.
Tashigang, 1979), 1: 3–4.
13. An example of this is found in the Zangs gling ma biography of Padmasambhava
attributed to Ye shes mstho rgyal and revealed by Nyang ral Nyi ma ‘od zer (1136–1204);
Eril Pema Kunsang, tr., The Lotus-Born: The Life Story of Padmasambhava (Boudhnath:
Rangjung Yeshe Publications, 2004), chap. 9.
14. For the fascinating story of this deity’s move, see the account in the video tour
of his chapel at Sera by the monk Tshul khrims, “The Chapel of the Protector Deity Taok
at the Mé College of Sera Monastery.” [Online] Rev. July 4, 2008. Available: http://www.
thdl.org/avarch/mediaflowcat/titles_browse.php?searchTerms=1044&searchType=id.
[January 1, 2009].
 introduction 31

15. See José Ignacio Cabezón, The Hermitages of Sera (Charlottesville, VA: THDL
Publications, 2006), 37. [Online monograph] Rev. July 4, 2006. Available http://www.
thdl.org/collections/cultgeo/mons/sera/hermitages/pdfs/sera_hermitages.pdf.
[January 1, 2009].
16. Other, even more dramatic examples are known. For instance, concerning the
way in which “the threefold man·d·ala of Yamāntaka” is mapped onto the rectangular
plan of city of Beijing, see Ferdinand Lessing’s brief note, “The Topographical
Identification of Peking with Yamāntaka,” in Ferdinand Lessing, Ritual and Symbol:
Collected Essays on Lamaism and Chinese Symbolism (Taipei: Orient Cultural Service,
1976), 89–90.
17. I have Dr. Amy Heller to thank for confirming this for me.
18. See Georges Dreyfus’s discussion of this issue in The Sound of Two Hands
Clapping: The Education of a Tibetan Buddhist Monk (Berkeley, CA: University of
California Press, 2003), 297.
19. For a broad overview of this litetrature, see Jens Kreinath, Jan Snoek, and
Michael Stausberg, Theorizing Ritual: Annotated Bibliography of Ritual Theory, 1966–2005
(Leiden: Brill, 2007). Books that have been especially influential in the field of religious
studies include Catherine Bell, Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1997); Jonathan Z. Smith, To Take Place: Toward Theory in Ritual
(Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1987); Ronald L. Grimes, Rite out of Place:
Ritual, Media, and the Arts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). Perhaps the best
anthology of the modern Western theorization of ritual is Ronald L. Grimes, Readings in
Ritual Studies (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1996). More Buddhist-specific,
though nonetheless broad treatments, of ritual include Robert H. Sharf, “Ritual,” in
Critical Terms for the Study of Buddhism, ed. Donald L. Lopez, Jr. (Chicago, IL: University
of Chicago Press, 2005), 245–69; and Richard K. Payne, “Ritual,” in Encyclopedia of
Buddhism, ed. Robert E. Buswell, 2 vols (New York: Macmillan Reference, 2004)
2: 723–26.
20. Smith, To Take Place, 104.
21. Among the terms that might be translated “ritual” are words with Sanskrit
equivalents, like rim gro (Sanskrit paricaryā = service/worship, upacāra = service/cere-
mony, satkāra = religious observance, upasthā = worship, etc.) and las (Sanskrit karma/
kriyā = ritual action). There are also a variety of words with no Sanskrit equivalents:
zhabs brtan, phyag len (and the compound cho ga phyag len), las thabs, and ‘phyong. See
also Karmay’s chapter in this volume for references to the indigenous category gto.
22. The word cho ga is old, being found in a variety of Dunhuang texts. For example,
it is found in PT 1051, a treatise on dice divination. We also find it in IOL Tib J 401, a work
containing a variety of healing and divination rituals, and in PT 221 and IOL Tib J 337, that
contain different dhāran ·¯ı rituals. These are just a few examples. The etymology of the
word cho ga is obscure. The noun cho has the connotation of “meaning” or “worth”; and
its opposite, cho med (“without cho”) means “silly” or “meaningless.” The word cho is also
part of the compound cho ‘phrul, meaning “miracle” or “magical display.” The verb cho ba
means “to set on,” “to incite to attack,” “to sic,” as in “to sic a dog on somone.” Although
one might derive etymologies of cho ga based on any of these nouns or verbs, to do so
would be conjectural at best, and whether or not any of these meanings of cho are implicit
32 introduction

in the word cho ga remains to be seen. Nor can we rule out that the fact that the word cho
ga is etymologically primitive.
23. The Tibetan word cho ga is also used to translate Sanskrit kalpa (fitness or rule,
but also simply rite or ceremony), ācārah· (conduct or rule of conduct) and a variety of
words associated with the latter including caritra (conduct, observance, or ceremony),
and upacāra (a practice, a service, a ceremony). Cho ga is also used to translate prayoga
(a practice, an utterance, a formula to be recited, a ceremonial form).
24. For an example of the characterization of circumambulation as a form of ritual
in the Western literature, see Ronald D. Schwarz, Circle of Protest: Political Ritual in the
Tibetan Uprising (London: Hurst and Company, 1994); and Robert B. Ekvall, Religious
Observances in Tibet: Patterns and Functions (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press,
1964).
25. Dbyangs can lha mo and Ko’o po’i kung, Bod rgya nang don rig pa’i tshig mdzod,
2 vols. (Chengdu: Si khron mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 1993), 1: 433–34: las don sgrub thabs
dang/ bya ba byed stangs sam/ go rim. See also Krang dbyi sun et al., Bod rgya tshig mdzod
chen mo (Beijing: Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 1998), 821–22: sgrub thabs dang/ bya ba’i
rnam bzhag/ dmigs bsal gyi mdzad sgo/ (“A method of accomplishing [something]; an
arrangement of actions; a special procedure”). A medical dictionary, Dbang ‘dus, Gso ba
rig pa’i tshig mdzod g.yu thog dgongs rgyan (Beijing: Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 1983),
169–70, which may be the source of the two entries just cited, quotes two old sources—
Zhang Gzi brjid ‘bar (11th century) and De’u dmar dge bshes (b. 1672)—on the subject:
sgrub byed thabs kyi ming ste/ Zhang Gzi brjid ‘bar gyis mdzad pa’i Gdams pa sum cu pa
las/ cho ga zhes rang gi ‘dod don bsgrub par byed pa’i skabs grub par byed pa’i thabs kyi ming
ngo/ zhes dang/ De’u dmar dge bshes Bstan ‘dzin phun tshogs kyis mdzad pa’i Gso rig skor
gyi ming tshig nyer mkho’i don gsal las/ cho ga sgrub byed thabs kyi ming/ zhes gsung pa
ltar ro/. “[A cho ga] is the name given to a method of accomplishing [something].
According to Zhang Gzi brjid ‘bar’s Thirty Pieces of Advice, ‘in the context of acting so as
to accomplish one’s own desired goal, a cho ga is the method followed to bring about
[that aim].’ And according to De’u dmar dge bshes’s A Clarification of the Meaning of
Essential Medicinal Nomenclature, ‘a cho ga is the name given to the method for accom-
plishing something.’ ”
26. For an overview of this ritual, see His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Jeffrey
Hopkins, Kalachakra Tantra: Rite of Initiation (Boston, MA: Wisdom Publications, 1999,
3rd edition).
27. See Beyer’s discussion of simple magical rites that do not involve any deity; The
Cult of Tārā, 303.
28. Vinaya rituals include ordination (sdom pa ‘bogs chog), the three basic monastic
rites (gzhi gsum cho ga)—the rite of confession (gso sbyong), the rite for entering into the
rainy season retreat (dbyar gnas), and the rite for exiting from the rainy season retreat
(dgag dbye)—as well as rituals for blessing various monastic accoutrements, such as
robes (chos gos byin rlabs kyi cho ga).
29. For examples of this, see Beyer, The Cult of Tārā, 290.
30. The five related to the disciple (slob ma’i dbang) are water (chu), diadem or
crown (cod pan), vajra (rdo rje), bell (dril bu), and name (ming). The five related to the
vajra master (rdo rje slob dpon) are mantra (sngags), prophecy (lung bstan), relief (dbugs
 introduction 33

dbyung), vajra conduct (rdo rje brtul zhugs), and practical conduct (spyod pa’i brtul zhugs).
Finally, the last portion of the vase initiation is called “permission” (rjes gnang). In the
Kālacakra, seven rather than eleven parts of the vase empowerment are mentioned; see
Hopkins, Kalachakra Tantra, 69, 73.
31. One thinks here of the so-called symbolic empowerment (brda dbang) or other
“unelaborated” (spros med) rituals. There are also a host of simple ritual procedures, like
the magical acts described in Cuevas’s chapter, where the storyline, if present at all, is
minimal.
32. On the ubiquity of offering to a variety of ritual genres, see John Makransky,
“Offering (mChod pa) in Tibetan Ritual Literature,” in Tibetan Literature: Studies in
Genre, ed. José Ignaio Cabezón and Roger R. Jackson (Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion, 1996),
312–30.
33. See Beyer, The Cult of Tārā, 278, for a description of the way in which mantras
(by appending different syllables, or rearranging those syllables or their directionality),
and visualizations (using different colors of light etc.) can be modified “for the different
functions.”
34. Many Indian Tantras already contain the seeds of compendia. Such collections
are also found in late Indian Buddhist works like the Kriyāsam · graha; see Tadeusz
Skorupski, Kriyāsam · graha: Compendium of Buddhist Rituals, An Abridged Version,
Bibliotheca Britannica, Series Continua X (Tring, UK: The Institute of Buddhist Studies,
2002). In Tibet, while the nomenclature las tshogs is found in the title of Tibetan works
as early as the twelfth century—for example, in Sa chen Kun dga’ snying po’s Sengge
sgra’i sgrub thabs las tshogs dang bcas pa—the genre as we know it probably does not really
begin to flourish until two centuries later, reaching its most developed form only in the
seventeenth century.
35. These topics are culled from my reading of two las tshogs of the deity Hayagrı̄va
in his “Extremely Secret” form: (1) Khal kha dam tshig rdo rje, Rta mgrin yang gsang
khros pa’i chos skor (Bylakuppe, India: Sera Byes College, 1997), 3 vols.; and a two volume
collection of unknown authorship called Rta mgrin padma yang gsang khros pa’i chos skor
(photoreproduction of a blockprint, no bibliographical information).
36. Such a structure is made explicit in ‘Jam mgon kong sprul’s catalogue (dkar
chag) to the Rin chen gter mdzod. Kong sprul organizes his mammoth collection in sec-
tions: (1) empowerment, the root of the path (lam gyi rtsa ba); (2) proximity to and
achievement of [the deity], the essence of the path (lam gyi ngo bo); (3) gtor ma rituals,
which are to be done in between sessions of sādhana practice (thun mtshams su bya ba);
and so forth. I have Gene Smith to thank for making his transcription of this catalogue
available to me.
37. Lha pa’i lha rnams kyi sgrub thabs kun las btus pa ba ri brgya rtsa’i rgya gzhung
rnams (Dehradun, India: G. T. K. Jodoy, N. Gyaltsen and N. Lungtok, 1970), 14 vols. See
also Loden Sherab Dagyab, Die Sadhanas der Sammlung Ba-ri Brgya-rtsa (Ikonographie
und Symbolik des tibetischen Buddhismus) (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1983).
38. Yi dam rgya mtsho’i sgrub thabs rin chen ‘byung gnas (New Delhi: Chophel
Legdan, 1974–75), 2 vols. See also Martin Wilson and Martin Brauen, Deities of Tibetan
.
Buddhism: The Zürich Paintings of the Icons Worthwhile to See (Bris sku mthon ba don
ldan) (Boston, MA: Wisdom Publications, 2000), where a collection of miniature paint-
34 introduction

ings related to this cycle are reproduced together with sections of the Rin ‘byung
brgya rtsa.
39. Rin chen gter mdzod chen mo (Paro, Bhutan: Ngrodrup and Sherab Drimay,
1976–80), 111 vols.
40. A similar point has been made by Bryan J. Cuevas, Travels in the Nether World:
Buddhist Popular Narratives of Death and the Afterlife in Tibet (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2008), 6–11.
41. “Diviners” is a broad category that includes a variety of individuals who utilize
different means for communicating with superhuman agents: from throwing dice (mo)
to counting the beads on a rosary (phreng mo), to “reading mirrors” (phra phab pa), to
channeling spirits (lha phab pa). For a concise and accessible introduction to Tibetan
systems of divination see Dorjee Tseten, “Tibetan Art of Divination.” [Online] Available:
http://www.tibet.com/Buddhism/divination.html. [December 20, 2008] See also
Mengele’s discussion of the interpretation of death signs in this volume.
42. In Tibetan culture generally, others’ “bad-mouthing” or “gossip” (mi kha) was
seen as a cause of misfortune, and there were rituals to counteract this.
43. Karmic debt, according to Dung dkar Blo bzang ‘phrin las, being of three
types—related to body (lus), life (srog), and possessions/wealth (longs spyod)—refers to
“debts that must be repaid” (bu lon ‘jal dgos pa); Dung dkar tshig mdzod chen mo (Beijing:
Krung go’i bod rig pa dpe skrung khang, 2002), 1949. That repayment of debt can be
ritually accomplished through the offering of ritual cakes (lan gtor), for example.
44. It is noteworthy that even the handbook of magic described by Cuevas was
written by one of the most famous scholars of the Nyingma tradition, ‘Ju Mi pham, an
“elite” monk if there ever was one. This once again goes to show that the elite/popular
or soteriological/pragmatic boundary is always porous.
45. See Beyer, The Cult of Tārā, 249.
46. For a list of the various Proceedings of the International Association of Tibetan
Studies (PIATS), with the number of articles published in each volume, see “The
International Association of Tibetan Studies.” [Online] Available at: http://www.thdl.
org/collections/journal/jiats/index.php?m=iats [December 20, 2008]. The last IATS
meeting proceedings, from 2000, had 155 articles in ten volumes.
47. As this volume is going to press, another volume dealing with Tibetan ritual in
a broader sense is being edited by Katia Buffetrille.
1
Written Texts at the Juncture
of the Local and the Global
Some Anthropological Considerations on a
Local Corpus of Tantric Ritual Manuals
(Lower Mustang, Nepal)

nicolas sihlé
[A]nthropology has signally neglected the analysis of liturgical
ritual . . .
—Caroline Humphrey and James Laidlaw1

Anthropologists of complex, literate religious traditions have rarely

succeeded at properly integrating local corpora of written religious
texts (canonical scriptures, ritual manuals, etc.) into their ethno-
graphically based analyses. The reasons for this are probably multiple.
Messick has suggested that the exclusion of written texts is “virtually
an organizing principle” in the disciplinary history of the social sci-
ences.2 In the particular case of Islam, Bowen has noted that Islamic
rituals have been shaped to “local cultural concerns and . . . univer-
salistic scriptural imperatives”; as such, they “fit comfortably nei-
ther in an ethnographic discourse of bounded cultural wholes nor
in an Islamicist discourse of a scripture-based normative Islam.”3
There would thus seem to be some inherent lack of fit between writ-
ten religious texts as objects of study and (at least traditional) under-
standings of anthropological practices and concerns. Actually, the
assumption that “cultures” are distinct, bounded wholes has been by
now thoroughly critiqued.4 But even armed with such insights—and
assuming training in the locally relevant literary languages—one is
forced to admit that written texts are particularly difficult, hybrid, and
36 tibetan ritual

complex objects. Very often, religious texts have been created at points in time
and space far removed from their ethnographic contexts; they have thus in a
sense a (partially) “alien” or “exogenous” character—although they can be at
the same time crucial elements of distinctly local constructions of meanings.
Leaving aside questions of interpreting authorial meaning, one may want to
argue, with Lambek, that for the anthropologist religious “texts by themselves
are silent; they become socially relevant through their enunciation, through
citation, through acts of reading, reference, and interpretation.”5 Yet, teasing
out their relevance in acts of reading—as when ritual manuals are read during
the performances of rituals—can be extremely challenging.
Compared, for instance, to the localized variants of the Islamic Feast
of Sacrifice studied by Bowen,6 Tibetan Buddhist rituals are often charac-
terized by a strongly dominant textual, liturgical component, a component
which can be of grueling length to the dedicated but often imperfectly liter-
ate anthropologist, who may be struggling to read cursive scripts of varying
quality over the shoulders of the officiants, while remaining attentive to
possible nontextual or peri-ritual dimensions of the event, as well as trying
to fight off the penetrating cold! However, the greatest challenge, by far, is
of a theoretical and methodological nature: What is the local, ethnographic
relevance of the ritual manuals and other texts that religious specialists
intone, sometimes for hours at a stretch? Anthropologists have looked
more often at the social or political economy of texts as value-laden objects,
or at the magical uses of such texts’ inherent power, be it through contact,
through the mere intonation of the words, or otherwise.7 But in the present
case, these texts are not just circulated, or manipulated, but definitely read
(or recited)—sometimes for hours or even days at a time—as core com-
ponents of exorcisms or other rituals. Are these (most often exogenous)
ritual manuals, in their very textuality, anthropologically relevant objects
that lend themselves to thinking about a local sociocultural order, or pos-
sibly about the complex juncture between a local order and the larger tradi-
tion that encompasses it?8 Tambiah, in a rural Thai-Lao Buddhist context,
repeatedly expressed his sense of the “paradox” that the often radical dis-
junction between exogenous textual meanings and local practices appeared
to constitute.9
This study focuses on the case of a small Tibetan society (approximately
3,500 inhabitants), known as Baragaon, or Lower Mustang, in northern
Nepal, where a southwestern Tibetan dialect is spoken. In particular, this
essay is about Chongkor (Chos ‘khor), a small village and temple commu-
nity of moderately literate tantrists or ngagpa (sngags pa), nonmonastic,
 some anthropological considerations on a local corpus 37

householder tantric priests. I conducted eighteen months of fieldwork

there in the late 1990s. Chongkor consisted at that time of some twenty
households, with altogether eight tantrists, all patrilineal descendents of
the founder, a tantric master from Central Tibet who settled there in the
seventeenth century.
In Chongkor, as elsewhere in the Tibetan world, most of the local reli-
gious texts are exogenous, in the sense that they were composed outside of
the local community or prior to its founding. Some of the Chongkor texts are
commonly used throughout large parts of the Tibetan world; many others
belong to more obscure traditions. This largely exogenous, written corpus
with historical genealogies that branch out to the larger world of Tibetan Bud-
dhism is a fundamental component of the local religious tradition, and has
strongly contributed to shaping it. At the same time, there is in no way a
simple correspondence between these texts’ “content” (a notion that needs to
be problematized) and local religious understandings and practices. It sim-
ply will not do to treat these texts as vessels of some unproblematic “mean-
ing” just waiting to be translated (or, for the locals, to be internalized). Here,
I approach the local corpus of religious written texts, and especially tantric
ritual manuals, with their local appendices and variants, and their specific
social economy, as key (albeit all too often neglected) elements situated at
the juncture between a local sociocultural universe and the larger world of
Tibetan Buddhism.
A number of influential, or formerly influential, mainly dualist models
of the structure of the religious field may seem to possess some relevance for
our study; after further examination, however, the present case seems to resist
their application. Thus, in the study of such a community of moderately literate
tantrists, drawing relations and contrasts with the elite of Tibetan Buddhism is
useful and important. However, a simple scheme opposing elite and popular
religion would be inappropriate. Two-tiered elite versus popular models, how-
ever they are articulated,10 do not sufficiently recognize the variety and relativity
of positions. How do we account for the local religious elite, which are per-
ceived by the elite of the great religious centers as ignorant, and as belonging to
the uncouth world of the village? The dualism of these models does not leave
any space for people like the Chongkor tantrists—for religious specialists other
than those who belong to the more learned and prestigious Tibetan religious
elites. Instead, at Chongkor, we have specialists who are strongly inscribed
within a local universe with its own coherence, but who at the same time are
part of a greater, diverse, pan-Tibetan tradition, which partially impregnates
the local socioreligious universe.
38 tibetan ritual

Similarly, I would argue that the important duality of “universal Church”

versus “local religion,” as we find in William Christian’s study of Catholicism
in sixteenth-century Spain, is not very useful in this particular case. Christian
distinguishes between two “levels”: that of the sacraments, liturgies, and calen-
dar of the universal Church, and a “local religion” based on saints, sanctuaries,
and festivals with a properly local character, a domain in which the clergy had
only limited authority.11 In Chongkor, however, the main deities that are wor-
shipped are in no real sense “local.” Thus, as opposed to the Virgin or the saint
who is worshipped in a given place under a specific name, or to Avalokiteśvara
in his identity of Bungadyah in the Kathmandu valley,12 here the main tutelary
deity, Mañjuśrī Yamāntaka, is a universal tantric Buddhist deity, devoid of par-
ticular associations with the temple in which his cult takes place.
A model that has been influential particularly in studies of the Hindu as
well as of the Buddhist world is Redfield and Marriott’s model of the literate,
urban “great tradition” and the village, oral “little traditions.”13 I do not wish
to dwell on the critiques that have been formulated here. Suffice it to say that
this model’s association of two social groups with two assumedly very differ-
ent cultural constructions is problematic.14 In the anthropology of Theravada
Buddhism, Redfield’s model was reformulated as an opposition between the
“great tradition” of scriptural Buddhism and the “little traditions” of Thai, Bur-
mese, or Sri Lankan Buddhism, in particular in their more popular or common
manifestations.15 Some of these formulations, like a number of other dualist
schemes that oppose learned and popular levels, doctrinal precepts and prac-
tice, or normative text and lived traditions, are marked by a somewhat asocio-
logical and ahistorical view of the first term of the duality.
More important, however, Redfield’s model did address an essential
question: that of the relations between a local order and a great translocal
tradition. In particular, Redfield stressed the importance of studying the role
of religious specialists and of diverse media in the communication between
the two.16 My work joins this conversation, the recent attention given to
institutions, media, and processes (of communication, conversion, or inte-
gration and differentiation, etc.) that operate at the juncture between great
religious traditions, local sociocultural universes, and regional, national, or
more global contexts.17
In my work on Chongkor, I have emphasized that this local tradition of
specialists cannot be understood outside of an entire context of relative geo-
graphical isolation, of socially constructed relative closure (with descent,
especially, functioning as a primary determinant of social and religious recruit-
ment), and also of interactions with the great tradition of Tibetan Buddhism,
 some anthropological considerations on a local corpus 39

with the broader Tibetan world, with the Nepalese state, etc.18 For this com-
munity, which lacks institutionalized links to Tibetan religious centers, one
may note that religious contacts have been only sporadic, and often fortuitous.
Finally, larger, global, structural changes have also impacted the local tradition.
For instance, the Tibetan exile has led to a reconfiguration of the transnational
order of Tibetan Buddhism, with special consequences for its monastic com-
ponent. Thus an increasing number of young monks from small Himalayan
societies are now receiving training in Tibetan exile monasteries, institutions
that have been able to garner considerable transnational patronage. (Equivalent
institutions for the training of tantrists do not exist.) In an indirect way, this
is now also impacting the power relations and prestige differentials between
monks and tantrists in these small Himalayan societies.
An important medium in the interaction between the local order of Chong-
kor tantrists and the world of Tibetan Buddhism is the written word, and in
particular religious texts. In a context where literacy is modest at best, and lim-
ited to a minority, the nature of this medium needs to be carefully examined.
I summarize just a few points here. Thus, one should emphasize the strong
interpenetration of writing and orality.19 The assumed fixity of the written word
should also be nuanced.20 Generally speaking, a ritual text is held to be invari-
able, and this is constitutive of its authority; however, the local tantrists live in
a world where the different manuscript exemplars of a text show a number of
alterations, and sometimes diverge. Here, the authority of the written word is
never absolute.
Finally, one should beware of overly logocentric approaches to writing
and religious transmission. Religious transmission here is essentially a mat-
ter of training in the performance of ritual, a training which is based largely
on students’ observation and repetition of their elders’ bodily practices (ritual
gestures, chanting, etc.). A large part of the texts is devoid of meaning for the
tantrists: Sanskrit mantras, or abstruse technical terms, and tantric symbolism.
There is also a certain degree of incoherence or obscurity in many tantric texts,
not to mention the physical degradation of many of the ritual manuals. To
quite an extent, ritual texts and words, over and above their semantic content,
are here primarily instruments for the mobilization of ritual power.
I would now like to look at the Chongkor written texts from three different
angles, which together allow us a glimpse of the historical process of structur-
ing that this tradition went through, of the particular social economy of the
local texts, and of how elements of a (partially) written large, encompassing
tradition have been “domesticated” in, or adapted to, this local sociocultural
universe.21
40 tibetan ritual

The Emergent Structure of the Chongkor Ritual Corpus

At the risk of oversimplifying things, and of disregarding the nuanced textual

scholarship of several of the contributions found in this volume, if one leaves
out a number of minor components, one may say that most Tantric rituals per-
formed in the present village context are composed of two main sections. The first
is composed primarily of what we can call the shung (gzhung), or “main texts,”
addressed to one or more tutelary deities, and consisting of invitations, offerings,
and requests of a general nature. The second section is focused on a particular aim
(exorcism, the calling hither of prosperity, etc.), which is pursued through specific
appendices. (Simpler tantric rituals may often do without the first section.)
Tantric rituals often belong to a larger cycle, or kor (skor): a collection of
rituals all centered on a single tutelary deity or set of tutelary deities, and on
their associated protectors. In a large Tibetan monastic center, for any given
purpose, one will typically choose a complete ritual, including the appropriate
appendices, within one of the several ritual cycles in use. In Chongkor, how-
ever, the boundaries of the ritual cycles appear to have been highly porous: the
ritual texts of different cycles have been combined in various ways. Thus, ritual
appendices derived from a cycle different than that of the first section of the
ritual may be enacted, and these secondary actions may be entrusted to differ-
ent tutelary deities than those actually invoked in the first part. The first section
in itself may comprise the main texts (shung) of tutelary deities from several dif-
ferent cycles. On the altar, the ritual cakes or torma, which serve as offerings to
and sometimes as the “support” of the different deities, are simply juxtaposed,
and during the ritual, the texts of these deities are read following a technique
called pel (spel), or “grouping”: all the invitations are read together, then all the
offerings, etc. In that process, the officiants go back and forth between texts
belonging to different ritual cycles. Sometimes they manage to switch from
one to the next without breaking the flow of the chanting; in those moments,
these texts from different cycles truly merge into one continuous chant. In
some rituals, the merging is stronger still, the ritual cakes for two tutelary dei-
ties of different cycles being merged, dü (bsdus), into one single cake.
Finally, all the important (and many minor) deities invoked in the Chongkor
rituals are addressed in one short ritual sequence that closes off all Chongkor
rituals, called Shagsöl (gshegs gsol), the Invitation to Depart. Here, the boundar-
ies between tantric cycles break down completely, and the term bricolage comes
to mind as appropriate; but this text, importantly, is also a relatively synthetic,
locally constructed discourse on the Chongkor tradition.22 This concluding
rite in effect performs a certain ordering of the local tradition, through the
 some anthropological considerations on a local corpus 41

linear sequence of deities’ names, through the particular importance it gives

to one central deity, Mañjuśrī Yamāntaka (the wrathful “Slayer of Yama”), and
through its emphasis on exorcism and the domain of violent, dragpo (drag po,
Skt. raudra), ritual activity. This structural analysis, when conjoined with writ-
ten and oral sources that provide us with some indications of the historical
sequence in which new cycles were successively added to the local, evolving tra-
dition, gives us an idea of the processes through which a local tantric tradition
was created. Everything discussed here seems to contradict the tantric logic of
separate transmission of sacred ritual cycles (kor), the basic units of ritual rev-
elation, but the principles that we see at play in this Himalayan community are
probably far more general than we would guess from the perspective of ritual
practice in, say, elite Tibetan monastic contexts.

The Particular Social Economy of the Local Texts

Religious specialization may ultimately depend on individuals agreeing to

engage in a given path of religious training, but in the Chongkor community
such specialization is also strongly determined by sociological factors. The par-
ticular social economy of the ritual manuals is just one example of this. Although
tantrists tend to place special emphasis on descent, the basic social and juridi-
cal unit of the local society is the house, with “main houses,” or drongba (grong
pa), having permanency and the full privileges of citizenship, and a variety of
types of “secondary houses,” khaldura (kha ‘thor ba), that have less permanence
and fewer civic rights. Religious texts like ritual manuals belong typically to the
owner of the house. After his marriage, the eldest son becomes the new mas-
ter of the house. His father, who might be an elderly tantrist, might decide to
leave the main house to his son, and to live in a secondary house. He can still
use the texts, but they do not belong to him any more; he only retains a limited
usufruct. The texts the father does not commonly use need to be deposited in
the main house, even if the son is not a tantrist. Thus, the proximity and access
to the religious texts are sociologically determined.
The importance of texts extends far beyond their immediate religious use.
In the Chongkor community of tantrists, although no one would put it this way,
a crucial material and sociological factor of recruitment is the possession of a
complete set of ritual manuals. Typically, and very strongly, in local ideology,
tantrists are recruited from among the eldest sons of tantrists; and these, with
a few exceptions, are typically masters of main houses. During my stay, a boy
from a secondary house, whose father was not a tantrist, requested repeatedly
of an elder tantrist that he teach him the alphabet. His requests were always
42 tibetan ritual

ignored. I was all the more surprised, given that the community had a real
dearth of young men engaged in the learning of the local religious tradition, and
I asked the elder tantrist in private the reasons for his refusal. He answered sim-
ply that there were no tantrists in the boy’s house. On the surface, this answer
simply seemed to reflect the tendency toward patrilineal succession that is so
widespread among tantrists. In recent generations, only in a few, very excep-
tional cases has a young Chongkor man started religious training when neither
his father nor his paternal grandfather were themselves tantrists. However, after
further inquiry, it emerged that my informant’s answer also implied a more
material form of determinism: Someone who would not inherit texts could not
become a tantrist. I realized that none of the current Chongkor tantrists had
ever copied more than just a few folios of text. Most of the manuals in use
had been copied in the nineteenth century. In a community, where writing in
Tibetan was hardly taught and learnt any longer (and where the ability to write
in Nepali had definitely become more appealing in terms of potential economic
benefits), the individual reproduction of several hundred folios in the Tibetan
script had become an insurmountable task.
All this is a potent reminder of the inadequacy of the modern Western
assumption that “religious practice” is a matter of individual choice. It shows
the powerful impact that material and sociological conditions can have on lit-
eracy and religious activity or identity. A Bourdieu-inspired perspective might
suggest that the elderly tantrist’s refusal was a case of protecting the socioreli-
gious monopoly of a priestly group. I agree that we can talk here of a socially
constructed, relative closure of the group, but in a less strategic sense; I would
suggest that for the elderly tantrist, starting to teach the boy how to read the
complicated Tibetan script was simply not worth the effort. For him, the boy,
lacking a set of texts, could never become a tantrist.

The Domestication of a Particular Genre of Religious Literature

In one sequence of their rituals, called Lorgyü (bla rgyud, literally “Lineage
of Masters”), the Chongkor tantrists invoke a certain sequence of names.
In appearance, this text belongs to the genre of the “prayer to the masters,”
lamé söldeb (bla ma’i gsol ‘debs). These texts, in Beyer’s terms, address “the
entire lineage of the gurus,” who “are asked to empower the practitioners to
the effective performance of the ritual.”23 Learned members of the Tibetan
clergy, and many a textual scholar, would consider the lineage of the Chong-
kor Lorgyü “incomplete”: rather than starting from the deity or master who
initially revealed the teaching, it starts from the seventeenth-century founder
 some anthropological considerations on a local corpus 43

of Chongkor; it also does not reach down to the recent generations of the
community’s masters.
Although this text is a local composition, it poses problems of interpretation
for the Chongkor tantrists. Does the sequence of names it contains refer to a
master-to-disciple lineage, as is typically the case in the “prayer to the masters”
genre, or is it the sequence of the tantrists who occupied the position of lama,
or religious head, of the Chongkor community and village temple, a position
granted by seniority to one of the qualified tantrists? The Chongkor descen-
dants of the founder constitute a clan, subdivided into four segments, which
I will call A, B, C, and D. The Chongkor tantrists’ Lorgyü manuscripts are of
variable length. Some have only fifteen names; the longest one, belonging to an
elderly tantrist of segment B, has twenty-three names. The last name in this ver-
sion, Panjor Gyamtso (Dpal ‘byor rgya mtsho), possibly refers to the master of
this tantrist’s grandfather, who may have added this last name to the sequence
after his master’s demise. The manuscript was later inherited by his grandson,
the current owner. The large number of names, covering a period spanning
less than three hundred years, suggests that the text actually lists tantrists who
served as lama of the community—although not all of them, since some of
Panjor Gyamtso’s predecessors, still remembered in local memory, seem to be
missing. So this may not be exactly the same thing as a typical Tibetan “prayer to
the masters.” But this genre has definitely provided the form and the vocabulary
for the present text: its very name is characteristic of the “prayer to the masters”
genre, and the tantrists invoked by the text are called in one instance “Fathers
and Sons,” yabsé (yab sras), a typical designation for masters and disciples.
It is noteworthy that the first names of the sequence have the title “lama,”
or “master,” whereas the following ones all have the title ngagchang (sngags
‘chang), “mantra-holder” or “mantra adept”—a rather literary synonym of
ngagpa, “tantrist,” rarely used in colloquial speech, and definitely with elite
connotations. However, “mantra-holder” does not quite carry the same con-
notation or religious status as the word “lama.” It may not be irrelevant to
mention that for a number of generations the Chongkor community has been
transmitting its religious tradition without any formal initiation or empower-
ment, wang (dbang, Skt. abhiśeka). (See the Introduction to this volume.) One
may want to speculate whether the switch in titles from “lama” to the some-
what less elevated ngagchang, in the text, reflects a historical accident. Did this
possibly occur at the moment when the Chongkor lama stopped conferring
initiations (a practice integral to the notion of lama as religious master in many
Tibetan understandings)? However, here one can only speculate; more histori-
cal evidence would be needed in order to reconstruct the twin trajectories, in
Chongkor, of the lama institution and of the Lorgyü text.
44 tibetan ritual

In the local discourses on this text, beyond the master-to-disciple lineage

and the sequence of those who held the position of lama in the local commu-
nity, yet another type of lineage appears: the agnatic, hereditary lineage. One
tantrist of segment C, maybe slightly emboldened by the generous amount
of beer he had drunk on one cold, wintry day, claimed to me that the term
ngagchang was specific to his own clan segment. According to a layman of seg-
ment D, his father, Lama Tsering (Bla ma Tshe ring), who was the son of the
aforementioned Panjor Gyamtso, claimed to belong to a lineage of twenty-five
lamas.24 Lama Tsering’s count might have been based on the fact that he him-
self and his grandfather, also a former lama of the community, were not a part
of the sequence of twenty-three names. Proud of this illustrious line, Lama
Tsering’s son would sometimes argue over this with his neighbor, a member
of segment B, at that time the lama of the community, stating that there had
not been a single other lama before him in his line (and that there would be no
other). Finally, a tantrist of segment A, who descends from the founder in the
senior line of descent, claims that most of the Chongkor lamas (“maybe forty
or fifty”) originated from his house.
These contradictory and unverifiable claims show the temptation to think
of this text as a genealogy, and to see the sequence of Chongkor lamas in terms
of the residential descent groups that are at the heart of the social life and iden-
tity of the Chongkor people. We may note that a text bearing the imprint of the
local social order may constitute a strategic resource even for illiterate actors
like Lama Tsering’s son. Fundamentally, the “Lineage of Masters” text shows
how an important genre of the Indo-Tibetan Buddhist ritual literature was
adapted to Chongkor religious institutions. It further shows how the hybrid
product, with its crucial implications in terms of status or symbolic capital—
what is at stake here is nothing less than the social affiliation of the lamas,
the highest religious officeholders of the community—is finally reinterpreted
locally in accordance with a worldview centered on descent. This worldview
is largely shared throughout the local society, and there are numerous other
Tibetan examples in which teachings, religious qualities, or qualifications for
religious offices are transmitted in biological lineages—although ultimately,
these phenomena largely lack scriptural authority in the normative Buddhist
treatises. Thus, this text gives us an insight into some of the complex relations
between local and larger norms, practices and interpretations—between the
local production of a religious text, its contested interpretation, and the norms
of the larger genre that was its inspiration.
As a last example, let me briefly suggest some of the limits of this enter-
prise of examining the relations between a local socioreligious order and a
larger, complex, literate religious tradition from the angle of religious texts. We
 some anthropological considerations on a local corpus 45

have seen instances of adaptations of ritual traditions, textual materials, and

genres to a particular sociocultural context. We should not lose sight of the fact
that the written word has a pronounced tendency to be transmitted unchanged.
What about the relations between largely invariant liturgical rituals and their
social contexts?

Scripted, Liturgical Rituals, and Their Contexts

As I have argued elsewhere, the ritual that best lends itself to thinking about
the Chongkor tantrists (both for the anthropologist and, to some extent, for
these tantrists themselves) is the hrinen (sri gnon, sri mnan), the “pressing down
of the hri (sri) demons,” which are responsible especially for recurrent deaths in
the community, be it in a household or among the livestock. For lack of space,
I provide here only a brief description of this ritual, and the reader is asked, in
effect, to bear with a primarily methodological discussion in which the ethno-
graphic detail is in large part substituted by footnote references.25
The hrinen is the most violent (drag po) domestic exorcism of the Chongkor
tantrists. Until the 1950s, they were asked to carry out this exorcism in con-
junction with the annual cult, lhachö (lha mchod), of the household protector
deities in almost all households of the northern side of their valley: the hrinen
would be performed in the evening and into the night, and then the lhachö on
the next morning. As a result of a conflict, however, the patronage enjoyed by
the Chongkor tantrists declined, and the critiques of a reformist Tibetan monk
regarding the excessive recourse to this “extreme” kind of ritual have led to a
further reduction of its practice. It remains, however, one of the most com-
monly performed exorcisms of the Chongkor repertoire.
The ritual is striking in the degree of power and violence that it manifests.
Throughout the many hours of reading the ritual texts, beating the drum, and
clashing the cymbals, one sees displayed a redundancy of modes of slaying the
demons or enemies. Effigies of hri demons are upset, showered with “toxic
substances,” and stuffed into a skull.26 The effigy of an “enemy,” or drao (dgra
bo), is threatened with various weapons, bound, stabbed, cut up (at this point,
the idea of killing is very present in the tantrists’ comments), then offered to
the deities and ingested partially by the officiant himself. The skull is wrapped,
bound, sealed, and pressed down under the feet of all those in attendance.
The trapped hri is submitted to a form of powa (‘pho ba), a rite which ideally
dispatches the slain demon to some Buddha’s pure land, and which is then
followed by a dogpa (zlog pa), or “repelling” rite. The package is finally bur-
ied, pounded under the earth, and imprisoned under heavy stones and fire.
46 tibetan ritual

The ritual’s redundancy is both a highly convincing manifestation of violent

power and a sign of just how hard it is to get rid of hri demons—by definition,
agents of recurrent misfortune. It is quite telling that the demons are both
“killed” (actually, several times) and repelled, or prevented from returning.27
As we are concerned here primarily with issues surrounding the texts and
their meanings, it should be mentioned that the tantrist officiates throughout
most of the ritual essentially alone, most often in the altar room of the house.
He is provided with all the necessary material ingredients for the ritual, his cup
of beer is maintained full throughout, and, during the final phases of the rit-
ual, which involve more manipulation of the effigies, knives, and other imple-
ments, an assistant is delegated on behalf of the householder. It would be very
uncommon, however, for anyone from the patron’s household to remain with
him throughout the long hours of reading and reciting, the texts being written,
it should be repeated, in a complex and sometimes obscure literary language
that nonliterate laypeople cannot possibly follow in any substantial way. Only
in the final phases, and especially when the skull is to be pressed under the feet
of all members of the household, does the room fill up.
Compared to the séance of a medium, for instance, the hrinen, like all tex-
tual rituals of the Chongkor tantrists, leaves very little room for personal initia-
tive; the quality of the officiant’s “performance” is therefore hardly an issue.
We have here a “liturgy-centered” (as opposed to performance-centered) form
of ritual.28 One officiant may master the crescendo and intensity of the climax a
little better than another, or he may be more skilled in creating a sense of seam-
less flow as the ritual moves from one section to the next, but on the whole, the
ritual is scripted: it follows a text and a precise choreography which are inde-
pendent of the circumstances of the performance. Whether the hri demons are
exorcised for a prosperous hotel owner who, over the preceding months, has
lost several mules, or in a house that has experienced a series of deaths, or in
the officiant’s own home after he dreamt of hri demons “rising,” the ritual is
basically the same. In Rappaport’s terms, the “canonical,” invariant component
or dimension of the ritual appears to predominate almost to the exclusion of
its “indexical,” context-specific dimension.29 Of course, the “indexical” is not
totally absent: consider, for instance, the social organization of the ritual, or
the integration of the ritual experience within domestic trajectories of success,
misfortune, concerns, and so forth. Nonetheless, the contrast, as stated earlier,
does ring quite true if we focus on the textual, liturgical component of the
ritual—which is precisely what we are concerned with here. The importance
of the “canonical,” invariant component is here largely related to the written
basis of the ritual, albeit in complex ways.30 The (relative) transportability and
permanence of the written word have contributed to a highly particular fact: the
 some anthropological considerations on a local corpus 47

spread of thousands of folios of virtually identical textual materials throughout

the Tibetan cultural area and throughout the centuries. Some of the texts, or
themes, are even the translation of Indic antecedents. How can rituals based
in a substantial way on this kind of written texts be analyzed with reference to
particular contexts of transmission and performance?
The most widely read analysis of a Tibetan exorcism is a chapter of Ort-
ner’s Sherpas Through Their Rituals.31 Unfortunately, it is based on a mode of
symbolic interpretation which plays ingeniously with the semantic categories,
but displays a recurring arbitrary character.32 Justifications internal to the
Sherpa culture are often tenuous or absent, as in a passage where the effigies
violently destroyed in a common exorcism are interpreted to represent a god,
itself presented as a symbol of the rich and the clergy.33 The general aim of the
book, which guides the entire analysis, is itself debatable: the claim, following
Geertz’s scheme, is that rituals, as both models of Sherpa society and models
for action, reflect the tensions of the Sherpa socioeconomic order, and provide
solutions to those tensions through a transformation of the experience of the
participants, in Lienhardt’s sense.34 The study, however, fails to show that the
Buddhist exorcisms studied there play this double role.35
However, some of the criticisms directed at the book have themselves been
somewhat inadequate. Some critics have argued that a textual, historically invari-
ant, and geographically very widespread ritual form cannot exhibit any (strong)
correlation with a given, local social order.36 This critique omits, however, symbols’
fundamental potential for multivocality. The ritual also should not be conflated with
its text. Ortner’s analysis actually ignores the texts, and is based on other elements:
the manipulation of effigies, the social identity of the different actors (officiants,
subaltern assistants, etc.), and elements of local discourse. There is assuredly a
place here for an analysis that integrates patterns of ritual practice with a local con-
text of social relations and unfinished systems of essentially multivocal symbols.
But how far can the texts, as artifacts that (for their readers) simultaneously
carry local, external, and sometimes obscure meanings, be drawn into this analy-
sis? For lack of space, I will just briefly suggest some of the relatively little-trodden
and ill-charted paths of inquiry that open up here at the juncture of largely exog-
enous written texts and local worlds of meaning. I have attempted to pursue these
directions elsewhere, notably in the description and analysis of the hrinen exor-
cism.37 One important factor is obviously the degree of literacy of those who inter-
act with the texts. In their exegeses, more literate and learned informants typically
tend to fall back on normative, text-based theological constructions—interpretive
systems characterized by a high degree of internal coherence, which are very often
articulated independently from local, lived experiences. On the other hand, in the
case of Chongkor’s semiliterate tantrists, faced with texts that are full of corrupted
48 tibetan ritual

spellings, attempts to obtain exegeses of textual passages are often unproductive,

and can induce a strong sense of awkwardness. Choosing the right informants,
setting up situations where an informant would feel inclined to provide some
degree of spontaneous comments, and sensing how far one can probe into the
frontier of what does and does not makes sense for informants is methodologi-
cally challenging, but crucial. Informants may here be somewhat less loquacious
than their more learned counterparts; but on the whole, their interpretations
probably tend to be grounded in locally more relevant schemes of understand-
ing and practice. In cases of lesser degrees of literacy, the aim of such soundings
can be to try to suggest some of the local contours of the aforementioned frontier
between the familiar and the unknown or alien; in my experience, starting with
something that the priests are familiar with, such as the details of the structure
of the ritual, provides a useful point of departure. In this way, we can gradually
recognize how (in Rappaport’s terms) a primarily “canonical,” liturgical, textual
ritual like the hrinen actually is (in part) integrated within the local cultural fabric,
as well as the substantial element of incoherence and obscurity which the ritual
manuals do retain for the officiating tantrists. As in all ethnographic explorations,
one must here probe in the dark, but most importantly, let oneself be guided by
the informants’ more spontaneous comments, and follow their hints as to what
passages of the texts speak more to them. Crucially, in this approach, it will not do
to simply substitute a translation of the text for the local understandings, as is all
too often still done in ethnographic writing. Rather, in the analysis of the hrinen, I
have shown, for instance, how the ritual as practiced (in the reading, in the other
actions, and in the symbolism of the ritual implements) both follows and, occa-
sionally, departs from the text, revealing places where an oral tradition separate
from the text takes over in prescribing the course of action. I suggest that, through
this kind of careful ethnography of the written word and of its place in local mean-
ings and practices, one can try to bring liturgical (or other) texts into the analysis of
the larger themes of a local sociocultural world. For instance, I have shown that in
the interplay between texts, effigies, oral commentaries, and legends, there is an
ambiguity that is maintained concerning the identity of the agents against whom
the exorcism is directed: the fine line between “demons” and personal enemies—
that is, between exorcism and sorcery—is often blurred.

Conclusions

Especially when one is dealing with complex, partially obscure texts like tantric
ritual manuals and with semiliterate officiants, much of what is found in the
texts may ultimately mean little to their readers, and may largely evade the
 some anthropological considerations on a local corpus 49

ethnographer’s net. However, provided the ethnographer listens attentively,

informants’ comments will suggest a local (in Rappaport’s terms, “indexical”)
flavor to the seemingly “canonical” and presumably rather stable, if not invari-
ant, liturgies of the rituals. Through the selection of elements discussed earlier,
I hope to have suggested the importance and some of the possibilities of a fuller
ethnographical engagement with liturgical rituals, and of a more fully anthro-
pological appreciation of the role of religious texts, as well as the limits of such
an undertaking. I also hope to have shown how texts are rich, complex objects
situated at a crucial juncture for the anthropologist interested in the transactions
that take place between local orders and larger flows of culture, as occurs here
between the local socioreligious order of a Himalayan tantric priestly community
and the larger, complex religious tradition of Tibetan tantric Buddhism.

notes
I would like to gratefully acknowledge the stimulating comments of Fernand Meyer,
Eve Danziger, Fred Damon, and José Cabezón at various stages of the elaboration of this
work.
1. Caroline Humphrey and James Laidlaw, The Archetypal Actions of Ritual: A Theory
of Ritual Illustrated by the Jain Rite of Worship (New York: Oxford University Press,
1994), 80.
2. Brinkley M. Messick, Written Culture (CSST Working Paper #96, 1993), 2 (per-
mission for citing received from author). A number of prominent scholars actually have
emphasized the need to integrate a familiarity with indigenous literatures and textual
scholarship into the anthropology of complex, literary cultures: Louis Dumont and
David F. Pocock, “For a Sociology of India,” Contributions to Indian Sociology, no. 1
(1957): 7; David L. Snellgrove, “For a Sociology of Tibetan Speaking Regions,” Central
Asiatic Journal 11/3 (1966): 199–219; Stanley J. Tambiah, Buddhism and the Spirit Cults
in North-East Thailand (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), chap. 21; and
Michel Strickmann, “History, Anthropology, and Chinese Religion,” Harvard Journal of
Asiatic Studies 40/1 (1980): 203–48. These discussions, however, have not gone into the
complex methodological issues raised by an ethnography of local textual corpora.
3. John R. Bowen, “On Scriptural Essentialism and Ritual Variation: Muslim
Sacrifice in Sumatra and Morocco,” American Ethnologist 19/4 (1992): 656.
4. See for instance Eric R. Wolf, Europe and the People without History (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1982), 3–7; Lila Abu-Lughod, “Writing Against Culture,”
in Recapturing Anthropology: Working in the Present, ed. Richard G. Fox (Santa Fe: School
of American Research Press, 1991), 137–62; or, in Tibetan studies, Stan R. Mumford,
Himalayan Dialogue: Tibetan Lamas and Gurung Shamans in Nepal (Madison: University
of Wisconsin Press, 1989).
5. Michael Lambek, “Certain Knowledge, Contestable Authority: Power and
Practice on the Islamic Periphery,” American Ethnologist 17/1 (1990): 23. One may want,
50 tibetan ritual

however, to slightly temper the first statement by noting that written texts are endowed
with a degree of semantic autonomy from their various sociocultural contexts of produc-
tion, reproduction, and use. On the concept of “semantic autonomy” in Ricœur’s theory
of hermeneutics, see Paul Ricœur, “Speaking and Writing,” in Interpretation Theory:
Discourse and the Surplus of Meaning (Fort Worth: Texas Christian University Press,
1976), passim.
6. Bowen, “On Scriptural Essentialism and Ritual Variation.”
7. See, for instance, Stan R. Mumford, Himalayan Dialogue, 80–92; Geoff
H. Childs, “How to Fund a Ritual: Notes on the Social Usage of the Kanjur (bKa’ ‘gyur)
in a Tibetan Village,” Tibet Journal 30/2 (2005): 41–48; or, for other Buddhist traditions,
Tambiah, Buddhism and the Spirit Cults in North-East Thailand, and “The Magical Power
of Words,” Man N.S. 3/2 (1968): 175–208; David N. Gellner, “ ‘The Perfection of
Wisdom’: A Text and Its Uses in Kwā Bāhāh, Lalitpur,” in Change and Continuity: Studies
in the Nepalese Culture of the Kathmandu Valley, ed. S. Lienhard (Alessandrio: Edizioni
dell’Orso, 1996), 223–40.
8. For an elegant attempt to relate certain popular Newar religious texts to some
of the features of their past sociocultural contexts, see Todd Lewis, Popular Buddhist
Texts from Nepal: Narratives and Rituals of Newar Buddhism (Albany: State University of
New York Press, 2000).
9. Tambiah, Buddhism and the Spirit Cults in North-East Thailand, 166–67 and
chap. 12, passim.
10. In one common use of these terms they refer to the opposition between insti-
tutionalized religions and a set of nonsystematized beliefs and practices, devoid of spe-
cific institutional contexts. For China, see Meir Shahar and Robert P. Weller,
“Introduction: Gods and Society in China,” in Unruly Gods: Divinity and Society in China,
ed. Meir Shahar and Robert P. Weller (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 1996), 1.
For Tibet, see Geoffrey Samuel, Civilized Shamans: Buddhism in Tibetan Societies
(Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993), chap. 10; but also Nicolas Sihlé,
“Buddhism in Tibet and Nepal: Vicissitudes of Traditions of Power and Merit,” in
Buddhism in World Cultures: Comparative Perspectives, ed. Stephen C. Berkwitz (Santa
Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2006), 250–51. This framework has little relevance for our present
purposes. Possibly the most useful way of conceptualizing the elite versus popular dual-
ity here would be in terms of the opposition between religious elites (whether hierocracy
or virtuosi) and the others, typically the popular masses, without any prior assumption
with regard to their respective forms of religiosity, and without excluding the possible
sharing of numerous religious traits. See Stephen Sharot, A Comparative Sociology of
World Religions: Virtuosos, Priests, and Popular Religion (New York: New York University
Press, 2001), 10–19.
11. William A. Christian, Jr., Local Religion in Sixteenth-Century Spain (Princeton:
Princeton University, 1981), 3, 20, 158–66.
12. On the complex layers of identity of Bungadyah, see Bruce M. Owens, “The
Politics of Divinity in the Kathmandu Valley: The Festival of Bungadya/Rato
Matsyendranath” (Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1989), chap. 5.
13. See Robert Redfield, “The Social Organization of Tradition,” Far Eastern
Quarterly 15/1 (1955): 13–21, and McKim Marriott, “Little Communities in an Indigenous
 some anthropological considerations on a local corpus 51

Civilization,” in Village India: Studies in the Little Community, ed. McKim Marriott
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955), 171–222.
14. See Christopher J. Fuller, The Camphor Flame: Popular Hinduism and Society in
India (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), 25–26, and Stephen Sharot,
A Comparative Sociology of World Religions, 14, 265n33.
15. See especially Gananath Obeyesekere, “The Great Tradition and the Little in
the Perspective of Sinhalese Buddhism,” Journal of Asian Studies 22/2 (1963): 142.
16. Redfield, “The Social Organization of Tradition,” 19–21.
17. See P. Steven Sangren, “Great Tradition and Little Traditions Reconsidered:
The Question of Cultural Integration in China,” Journal of Chinese Studies 1(1984): 1–24;
Shahar and Weller, “Introduction”; John R. Bowen, “The Forms Culture Takes: A State-
of-the-Field Essay on the Anthropology of Southeast Asia,” The Journal of Asian Studies
54/4 (1995): 1053–57. Regarding similar issues in the Tibetan case, see Charles Ramble,
“The Founding of a Tibetan Village: the Popular Transformation of History,” Kailash, a
Journal of Himalayan Studies 10/ 3–4 (1983): 267–90.
18. Nicolas Sihlé, “Les tantristes tibétains (ngakpa), religieux dans le monde,
religieux du rituel terrible: Étude de Ch’ongkor, communauté villageoise de tantristes
du Baragaon (nord du Népal)” (Ph.D. diss., Université de Paris-X Nanterre, 2001), chap.
1–3, and 5; and Nicolas Sihlé, Rituels de pouvoir et de violence : Bouddhisme tantrique dans
l’Himalaya tibétain (forthcoming).
19. See for instance William A. Graham’s concluding comments in Beyond the
Written Word: Oral Aspects of Scripture in the History of Religion (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1987), 156.
20. Compare Jack Goody, The Logic of Writing and the Organization of Society
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 9–10, and Jonathan P. Parry, “The
Brahmanical Tradition and the Technology of the Intellect,” in Reason and Morality,
ed. Joanna Overing (London: Tavistock Press, 1985), 211–13.
21. Of course, much more could be said about the texts: their types, their different
ritual (or other) uses (involving or not the reading of the words), their manipulation and
storage, the reading techniques, and so forth. All this would be part of a properly anthro-
pological approach to texts.
22. I especially have in mind Gellner’s suggestion of a typology of composite tra-
ditions—from “bricolage” to “syncretism” to “synthetic traditions”—differentiated
according to their degree of coherence and systematicity. See David N. Gellner, “For
Syncretism: The Position of Buddhism in Nepal and Japan Compared,” Social
Anthropology: The Journal of the European Association of Social Anthropology 5/3 (1997):
288–89.
23. Beyer, The Cult of Tārā, 38.
24. In his words, “bla rgyud nyi shu rtsa lnga yod.”
25. A description and analysis of this ritual has been offered, and progressively
refined, in the following works: Nicolas Sihlé, “Lhachö [Lha mchod] and Hrinän [Sri
gnon]: The Structure and Diachrony of a Pair of Rituals (Baragaon, Northern Nepal),” in
Religion and Secular Culture in Tibet: Tibetan Studies II, ed. Henk Blezer (Leiden: Brill,
2002), 189–96; Sihlé, Les tantristes tibétains, 428–44; and Sihlé, Rituels de pouvoir et de
violence.
52 tibetan ritual

26. On effigies, see also the chapters by Mengele and Cuevas in this volume.
27. A similar observation is made by Mumford, Himalayan Dialogue, 143.
28. See Jane M. Atkinson, The Art and Politics of Wana Shamanship (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1989), 14–15; and Humphrey and Laidlaw, The Archetypal
Actions of Ritual, 8–12.
29. I am drawing here selectively from Rappaport’s ideas on ritual. Rappaport
emphasizes the “transmission” of canonical and indexical “messages” in rituals, but
I do not share his view of ritual as primarily “a mode of communication.” See Roy
A. Rappaport, “The Obvious Aspects of Ritual,” in Ecology, Meaning and Religion
(Richmond, CA: North Atlantic Books, 1979), 178–83.
30. Written texts constitute neither a sufficient nor a necessary condition of invari-
ance, as Parry’s critique of some of Goody’s more deterministic claims reminds us, to
take one example. See Parry, “The Brahmanical Tradition and the Technology of the
Intellect,” 210–13.
31. Sherry B. Ortner, Sherpas through their Rituals (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1978), 91–127.
32. See the following critiques: Charles Ramble, “Recent Books on Tibet and the
Buddhist Himalaya II,” Journal of the Anthropological Society of Oxford 1/2 (1980): 113;
Cathy M. Cantwell, “An Ethnographic Account of the Religious Practice in a Tibetan
Buddhist Refugee Monastery in Northern India” (Ph.D. diss., University of Kent, 1989),
19–20; or even Donald A. Messerschmidt, “New Heights and New Insights in Himalayan
Research,” Reviews in Anthropology 6/2 (1979): 200.
33. See Ortner, Sherpas Through Their Rituals, 93–94, 101–103, 122; and, for a cri-
tique, Cantwell, An Ethnographic Account, 44n43.
34. Ortner, Sherpas Through Their Rituals, 5–9; Godfrey Lienhardt, Divinity and
Experience: The Religion of the Dinka (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1961), 233–97; Clifford
Geertz, “Religion as a Cultural System,” in Anthropological Approaches to the Study of
Religion, ed. M. Banton (London: Tavistock publications, 1966), 1–46.
35. David Jacobson, Reading Ethnography (Albany: State University of New York
Press, 1991), 54–66.
36. See Cantwell, An Ethnographic Account, 20, or, more implicitly, Ramble,
“Recent Books,” 117. For critical comments on Cantwell’s own alternative mode of anal-
ysis, which emphasizes the continuity of practice across Tibetan regions, see Martin
A. Mills, Identity, Ritual and State in Tibetan Buddhism: The Foundations of Authority in
Gelukpa Monasticism (Richmond: Curzon Press, 2003), 106–107.
37. Sihlé, Les tantristes tibétains, 428–44; and Sihlé, Rituels de pouvoir et de violence.
2
Tibetan Indigenous Myths
and Rituals with Reference
to the Ancient Bön Text
The Nyenbum (Gnyan’bum)

samten g. karmay

It was in Kyoto University, in 2006, while working on the sources of a

fourteenth-century Bön text,1 that I stumbled upon a collection of Bön
canonical works. There are four texts in this collection:
1. Lubum (Klu’bum)
2. Nyenbum (Gnyan’bum)
3. Sadag-bum (Sa bdag’bum)
4. Töbum (Gtod’bum)2
They are concerned with four types of spirits believed to dwell in the
natural environment, such as water, mountain, ground, and rocks.
The Lubum, the first of the four texts, is in three volumes. It
is about the lu or water spirits (nāga in Buddhist texts). This text is
known to scholars from the studies of A. Schiefner3 and R. A. Stein,4
but the remaining three of the four have hardly been investigated by
any scholars until now.
It is the second, the Nyenbum, The Nyen Collection, that is the
subject of this chapter.5 The word bum (‘bum) literally means “one
hundred thousands,” but it also stands more broadly for “a collection,”
as in the expression sungbum (gsung ‘bum), “collected works.” Before
analyzing the contents of the text, a few words on the importance
of this work in relation to studies of Tibetan rituals, particularly the
indigenous rituals, are in order.
54 tibetan ritual

Tibetan religious rituals, particularly Buddhist ones, are in general of Indian

inspiration. They mostly present themselves in the framework of sādhana, a term
translated by the Tibetan drubtab (sgrub thabs), literally “method of realization.”
There exists a sādhana for almost every member of the Buddhist pantheon. The texts
of sādhana are either translated from Sanskrit, or composed by Tibetan Buddhists
based on the Indian model or variants of it. A good example of this type of ritual are
the ones instituted by the Fifth Dalai Lama as state ceremonies.6 The Buddhist dei-
ties involved in these ceremonies are mostly Avalokiteśvara, Amitāyus, Hayagrīva,
or Buddhist siddhas such as Padmasambhava. Even in the Bön religion there are of
course drubtab types of rituals which are mainly of Buddhist inspiration.
In my research into indigenous rituals covered by the term to (gto), I noticed
that the to rituals generally begin with a reference to a preceding action or a sort
of event that is supposed to have taken place in the distant past. It appears
that without this precedent, the ritual itself does not seem to have much sig-
nificance regarding the effect that it is intended to have. This preceding act is
usually referred to in the briefest possible way, always leaving us wondering
what it was. This antecedent is often a myth shrouded in either a holy action
or a heroic deed. From this point of view, the ritual itself therefore consists in
the reenacting of the myth, thereby legitimizing the ritual performer, as well as
sanctifying his action in the process of performance.
The term to does not have a lexical meaning, but what it designates is
very clear. In Dunhuang manuscripts it is sometimes used as a verb: “ritual is
performed and diagnosis applied again and again” (gto zhing dpyad dpyad na).7
The terms “ritual” or to and “diagnosis,” or ché (dpyad), are given as two of the
four types of Bön practices—(1) divination (mo), (2) astrological calculation or
tsi (rtsis), (3) to, and (4) ché.8
Since the term to has no lexical meaning, in Buddhist ritual texts it is often
pejoratively spelled lto “food” instead of gto. This meaning is derived from the
term’s first meaning: “stomach” or “belly.” By spelling the term lto, the Bud-
dhists wanted to mock the Bön practitioners who make a living by performing
the “lto” rituals. Later the word tochog (gto chog) came into use in order to make
the distinction between the to and other types of rituals.
The drubtab type of ritual has a specific goal. It is generally the realization
of the divinity by the sādhaka or drubpapo (sgrub pa po), the performer of the rit-
ual, although the ritual is often performed for other various purposes, includ-
ing mundane gains. The Tibetan autochthonous ritual, on the other hand, was
often concerned with the everyday life of the people. It functions to create social
cohesion and moral obligation among the members of the village community.
It encourages communal organization centering upon the cult of the local spir-
its connected with water, soil, rocks, and mountains.
 tibetan indigenous myths and rituals 55

The performer of rituals, the local priest, is called shen (gshen) or sim-
ply bön (bon). The word lhabön (lha bon) is also used to designate the local
priest who performs rituals,9 and has the connotation of a person who invokes
deities.
There are two terms for the mythical antecedent: mang (smrang) and rab
(rabs). Both words often occur in the early ritual texts such as those discov-
ered in Dunhaung at the beginning of the twentieth century. It is the mythical
archetype that precedes the ritual proper. In other words, the indigenous ritu-
als always begin with myths of this type.
The lhabön priest, who performs rituals, is traditionally considered to be
someone versed in mythical archetypes, but in fact this is not the case. Ritual
texts containing the verses for chanting, and the written manual texts that con-
tain instructions on how to perform the rituals rarely give a full account of the
myth. They are simply alluded to by mentioning the names of the chief char-
acters in the myth.
Among the Dunhuang manuscripts, there are a number of ritual texts
affiliated to the Bön belief system.10 In these ancient manuscripts, the situation
is the same as in later ritual texts. The myths are not recounted in full, as we
might have wished. It appears that there was no real standard story for all types
of ritual.
The main theme of the myth is often built on the same stereotyped struc-
ture, and the chief characters of the same name that occur again and again in
different contexts. The stereotyped structure found in the myths may be sum-
marized as follows. At the beginning of the world nothing exists. The world
is created by itself. A human couple appears and has children. The family is
happy, and their lives seemingly harmonious in relation to the environment
in which they live. It is a good age. The next stage begins with problems often
characterized by disharmony with the natural environment and its supra-
human inhabitants: with the spirits such as the nyen that reside in the high
atmospheric realm such as the summit of mountains, with the lu that reside in
springs, lakes, rivers, the nether land, with the tö that live in rocks, and with the
sadag that dwell on the ground.
The disharmony is brought about by Man’s activities, like hunting wildlife,
polluting the waters, digging the ground, and cutting down trees. The pollu-
tion is called nöl (mnol). Other types of action that cause social disharmony
are given—for example, murder or mé (dme), particularly within the family.11
The disharmony engenders the stage of the decline of the good age. Man is
at a loss when things go wrong, particularly when he becomes ill and finds
that the society in which he lives is also affected. It is the decline of the good
age that provides the occasion for the lhabön to intervene. Only the lhabön has
56 tibetan ritual

the knowledge of how to communicate with the spirits that share the natural
surroundings with Man and his environment. The lhabön reestablishes the har-
mony of the good age that existed before. He does this by reenacting the state
depicted in the origin myth. The means of reenactment is the performance of
the ritual itself.
In Tibetan folklore, the nyen spirits of the heavenly atmosphere dwell
upon mountain summits. These spirits play a very important role in the nar-
rative of the original myths of the first Tibetan king. This king is believed
to have descended from heaven and alighted on the summit of Mount
Gyangto (Gyang tho ri) in Kongpo (Kong po). There is a long account of
his having a family relationship with the spirits of other high mountains
in Tibet.12 When the nyen spirits are associated with a particular mountain,
such as normally dominating a given region, they are then often called yul
lha, “local deity” or zhidag (gzhi bdag), “owner of the site.” The local deities
are the object of periodic propitiation and are often regarded as the “ances-
tor” of the local population (see Figure 2.1). This is the reason why kinship
terms are applied to these deities when the local people call their names.
Their names are often preceded by terms such as amnyé (a myes), “grand-
father,” and achi (a phyi), “grandmother,” particularly in A mdo (eastern
Tibet)—as is the case, for example, with the deity Amnyé Machen (A myes
Rma chen) (see Figure 2.2).
In the early classification of the nine mountains in Tibet, neither Mount
Tisé (Ti se) nor Mount Amnyé Machen, also called Manyen Pomra (Rma gnyan
Pom ra), were included since they were outside of what constituted the ter-
ritories of the Yarlung (Yar glung) Kingdom.13 Mount Tisé is located in what
was known as Zhang-zhung, a country in western Tibet annexed by the Tibet-
ans around 640 CE. Tsongkha (Tsong kha), later called Amdo (A mdo), where
Mount Amnyé Machen is situated, became a military and commercially strate-
gic region when the empire of the Yarlung kings expanded toward the north-
east, also around the middle of the seventh century CE. It was from Tsongkha
that the Tibetans invaded the Dunhuang region in 787 CE. They held it for
three-quarters of a century. Dunhuang, called Gya Shachu (Rgya Sha cu) in
Tibetan, was a place where Buddhism flourished from about the fifth century
CE. It became an extremely important center of Buddhism in China before
the Tibetan invasion. As mentioned earlier, among the manuscripts discov-
ered in Dunhuang, there are also a number of manuscripts that contain Bön
myths and rituals. Scholars such as Marcelle Lalou and Frederic W. Thomas
already studied some of these rituals.14 They were later joined by R. A. Stein,
who published a very detailed comparative analysis of several Dunhuang man-
uscripts that treat myths and rituals affiliated to the Bön belief.15 In the words
 tibetan indigenous myths and rituals 57

figure 2.1. Amnyé Chakhyung. Photo S. Karmay, Rebkong (1997).

of Marcelle Lalou, these manuscripts contain “astonishing passages of texts

of the Bön mythology where a prodigious lyricism in both the form and sub-
stance is unleashed.”16 F. W. Thomas describes the content of the same type of
ritual texts from Dunhuang in the following terms: “It may be said to exhibit
the rather wild eloquence of a Bon-po priesthood, superimposed upon a more
primitive, religious, stratum.” He further remarks: “the subject is poetical, and
the sentiment and language natural.”17
As we have noted, these remarks are made with regard to the ancient
manuscripts from Dunhuang. Does this mean that only the ritual texts from
Dunhuang are of this quality and antiquity? The answer to this question would
be affirmative for the scholars just mentioned. They must be forgiven if they
58 tibetan ritual

figure 2.2. Amnyé Machen. Photo S. Karmay, Yungdrungling Monastery (1997).

really had thought that no such texts would have been found among the Bön
canonical texts, because until 1986 the whole collection of the Kangyur (Bka’
‘gyur) had not been available to them. The situation has now changed radically
since the publication of the Bön canon.18

The Nyenbum Text

The subject of this study is a text entitled The Precious Collection of the Nyen
(Rin po che gnyan gyi ‘bum).19 It has twenty-six chapters of varying length. It
has no colophon. That leaves us wanting to know who the real author is, but
unfortunately just as in the manuscripts from Dunhuang mentioned earlier,
no indication is made concerning its authorship. According to the Bön tradi-
tion, three hunters, led by one Marpa Penzang (Mar pa ‘Phen bzang) went in
search of wood fuel. When they began to dig up the root of a dead bush on the
bank of the lake Mu-lé-hé (Mu le had), three wooden boxes emerged contain-
ing manuscripts. Being illiterate, they could not understand what the manu-
scripts were about. They eventually gave them to Shubön Genyen Tsugpü (Shu
bon dGe bsnyen gtsug phud).20 The identity of this man remains unknown.
He is obviously a Bön practitioner, judging from his name. It would seem
that it was he who had assembled the myths and arranged them in a single
 tibetan indigenous myths and rituals 59

text in twenty-six chapters. Apart from the main theme, which is the nyen
spirits, there is no thread in the subject matter woven to join one chapter
to another, but most of the chapters have a common character or name of
a character. Tradition seems to suggest that its having been found by the
hunters took place prior to the revelation of Shenchen Luga (Gshen chen
Klu dga,’ 996–1035). If this is the case, it would date back to the early tenth
century CE.
The hunters are said to have recovered the manuscripts on the bank of the
lake Mu-lé-hé. Mu-lé-hé is another name of the lake Lag-ngar Tso (Lag ngar
mtsho, Raks.as Tal). It is situated to the west of the lake Mapang Yutso (Ma
pang g.yu mtsho, Manasarovar). This therefore suggests that the manuscripts
originated in the vicinity of Mount Tisé (Kailash).
While most of the chapters of the Nyenbum each focus on one single myth,
a few of them treat several myths in the same chapter. The names of the char-
acters in these myths are sometimes given in what is known as the language
(skad) of Nampadong (Nam pa ldong), as well as in the language of Menyag
(Me nyag). It is hard to verify whether these correspond to real languages or
not. However, F. W. Thomas has already noted that the Nam people played an
important role in rituals found among the Dunhuang manuscripts. According
to him, the Nam people lived in the vicinity of Mount Amnyé Machen.21 In this
regard, it is interesting to note that in myths contained in the Nyenbum, the
local deity Amnyé Machen, mentioned earlier, is one of the prominent char-
acters. This also reminds us of the fact that Amnyé Pomra was considered to
be the ancestral deity of the Dong (Ldong) clan, one of the six original clans of
Tibet known as the miu dung drug (mi’u gdung drug).22
Regarding the content of the Nyenbum, the main theme is usually a con-
flict between the spirits lha and nyen on the one hand, and Man on the other.
It is Man who for the most part provokes the conflict through his actions
against nature. This consists of cutting down trees; digging up stones from the
ground; polluting lakes, springs, and rivers; and hunting wild animals. Man’s
actions disturb the aforementioned spirits that dwell in water, stone, ground,
and mountains. Men incur the wrath of the spirits, and as retribution, invari-
ably become ill. Their livestock suffer as well. The soul, symbolized by tur-
quoise or layu (bla g.yu),23 which men wear around their necks, wanders away
or is captured by the spirits. The yang (g.yang), quintessence of yaks, dri (‘bri),
horses, and sheep vanishes. Man seeks to remedy this situation through the
services of the local priest, the lhabön. The latter tries to restore the harmoni-
ous state which formerly existed, by performing a ritual. However, he often
fails. In this case, he recommends that the matter be taken to another lhabön
who is depicted as being more effective. Through the performance of ritual, the
60 tibetan ritual

harmony is reestablished and Man is then made to propitiate the local spirits
and is restrained from his actions against nature.

The Language of the Text

Just as in many of the Dunhuang manuscripts, the language of the text is

extremely difficult to understand. This is partly because of its archaic vocabu-
lary and also partly because of its composition in verses. A large part of the
text remains incoherent and obscure. It is the sequence of the story that gets
lost. The manuscript copy of the text in the Bön Kangyur is a unique copy
and therefore very important, but it is also riddled with faults, embedded with
misspellings, inconsistencies, and contradictions. The stories are often unduly
condensed and their thread lost. It is also full of unusual and difficult terminol-
ogy—for example, pung tseng (phung ‘tsheng) for “defeat and victory.”
Birds, and to a lesser extent wild animals, play a predominant role in the
mythical accounts. The language is poetic, written in verse mostly with five
or six syllables, but not constant. Now and then the lines continue into many
more syllables. However, the antiquity of the text is self-evident. Its ancient
writing is similar both in form and content to the Bön ritual texts found among
Dunhuang manuscripts. A number of passages are exactly identical word for
word to those in Dunhuang documents.
In order to give the reader an idea of the text and its contents, I conclude
here with a summary translation of a myth from the Nyenbum’s chapter sixteen
entitled “The Medium Length of the Opening of the Padlock of the Nyen.”24

Summary Translation of the Nyenbum Chapter Sixteen

(141–220) “Salutation! Here is the opening of the padlock of the Nyen.
Formerly, the Si (Srid) pitched the sky.
The Kö (Skos) spread the earth.
The Cha (Phywa) constructed forts.25
The Nyen reigned.
Man took possession of the locality.
The first god was Lha Tsenpa-teng (Lha btsan pa steng).
The first Man was Tsenpa Nga-nga (Btsan pa nga snga).
The first Nyen was Nyenjé Kharwa (Gnyan rje mkhar ba).
The first Lu was Lutsen Ngardrag Dingwa (Klu btsan ngar drag ding ba).
The first Men (Sman)26 was Mentsun Tangpo (Sman btsun thang po).
 tibetan indigenous myths and rituals 61

The first Zé (Gzed)27 was Zé Gyaltangpo (Gzed rgyal thang po).

The first Sin (Srin) was Sitsen Guwa (Sri btsan rgu ba).
There were the Gods, the Lu, the Nyen, the Ze, the Men, Man, and the
Sin, seven (kinds of beings) in all.
The country was small.
The earth was narrow.
The sky was not extensive, only just about all.
Man had no room to roam about.
His cattle were unable to find food.
So Man called loudly up to the sky.
The Si, the Kö and the Cha all heard him. (141–221)
They said: “the land must be divided.”
They sent down stakes to be played for.
At Gungtang (Gung thang), land of the Gods,
The Gods won Zedrang (Ze ‘brang), fort of the gods (as their stakes).
At Poma Yagteng (Pho ma yags steng), land of the Nyen,
The Nyen won Tsegu (rTse dgu), fort of the Nyen.
In Natog (Na tog), land of the Lu,
The Lu won Gyangdang (Rgyang dang), fort of the Lu.
The Men won Dungpang (Dung ‘phang), land of the Men.
The Zé won Pangtra (Spang bkra), land of the Zé.
The Sin won Nagpo Gusel (Nag po dgu sral), land of the Sin.
Man won Kyiting (Skyi mthing),28 land of Man.
Thus the land sphere was designated and earth was divided.
The Gods were victorious.
The fort Zédrang need not be restored even if it is damaged.
The clothes of the Gods need not be sewn even if they are torn.
Their wealth need not be looked after.
Their food was made from nine kinds of grains, and no fields need to be
dug and ploughed for it. (141–222)
The Men and the Zé also won.
(The same for the Lu and Sin).
Sakhar Kyawo (Sa mkhar skya bo), fort of Man, however, needs to be
restored if it is damaged.
The domestic animals of Man need to be looked after.
The clothes of Man need to be sewn if they are torn.
The (fields of) food grains of Man need to be dug and ploughed.
So Man felt: “Oh! We lost (our stakes)!”
Re’u Mig Nön (Re’u mig non) and Lo Sonön (Glo so rnon) [of the Nyen],
Went to report to the Gods, the Lu and the Nyen about Man’s (situation).
62 tibetan ritual

They said: “Will extra be given? Who lost? We, the Nyen, lost.
The land is small, it cannot be extended.
The fort Zédrang of the Gods (141–223) need not be restored even if it is
damaged.
The white clothes of the Gods need not be sewn even if they are torn.
But the white horned deer of the Gods have no hair on their back.
If one milks them, no milk would come. . . .
The forts of the Lu and the Nyen
Need not be restored if they are damaged.
The clothes of the Lu and those of the Nyen
Need not be sewn if they are torn.
But the cattle of the Lu and the Nyen have no hair on their back.
No milk would come if they were milked.
The forts of the Men and the Zé need not be restored
If they are damaged.
The clothes of the Men and the Zé need not be sewn if they are torn.
The fort of the Sin need not be restored if it is damaged.
But the cattle of the Sin have no hair on their back.
If milked, no milk would come.
The Sin need not wear hats.
Who lost? It is us, the Nyen, who lost!
Who won? It is Man who won!
Even though the land of Man is small, it can be extended.
Even though the fort Sakhar Kyawo is low,
It can be built higher.
If the clothes of Man are torn,
They can be sewn up.
If they get old, they can be changed.
Man has much food.
He eats food in the morning and in the evening.
His older generation is not yet dead (141–224).
His future generations will be increased.
His cattle and sheep have hair on their backs.
Their breasts produce milk.
But for the Nyen, us, nothing can be added to our loss.”
Having said that, Re’u Mig Nön and Lo Sonön left.
Then they went to the land of Man.
They sowed calumny between Man and the Nyen.
They misinterpreted their conversation (with the Gods, Lu and Nyen).
 tibetan indigenous myths and rituals 63

Re’u said: “The Gods, Lu and Nyen said: ‘It is true. Man lost. For the loss,
(we give them): hundreds of thousands of snow leopards and wildcats
of snow; hundreds of thousands of dear and reindeer of the meadows;
hundreds of thousands of bears and the dré (dred) bears of the forests;
hundreds of thousands of vultures and eagles of the rocks; hundreds of
thousands of beavers and otters of the water.
Man cuts the trees of the Nyen with an axe.
He digs the stones of the Nyen (from the ground) with a hook, and stirs
water of the Nyen with a ladle.
Man cries out from the high mountain pass.
Here is the compensation to Man for the loss.’ ”
Mitsen Ngapa (Mi btsan nga pa) thought:
“I will kill hundreds of thousands of the beasts of the white snow
mountain.
I will kill hundreds of thousands of snow cocks and grouse of the blue
slate mountain. (141–225)
I will kill hundreds of thousands of beavers and otters of the rivers.
I will cut the trees of the Nyen.
Dig up the stones of the Nyen.
I will plough the land of the Nyen as my field.
I will irrigate my home land with the water of the Nyen.
If I need to set up a cemetery,
I will do that on the slope of the brown mountain.”
Then Re’u Mig Nön said to the Nyen:
“Man is angry.
The Nyen should send bad omens to Man:
A hundred deer that eat frogs.
A hundred snakes that eat men.”
Nyibu Kangring (Nyi bu rkang ring) and Dabu Lagring (Zla bu lag ring),
The messengers of the Nyen,
Went to steal the (turquoise) of soul of Mitsen Ngapa and the soul of his
animals.
They hid the turquoise of souls.
They killed the snakes and deer that came as bad omens. The Nyen
therefore summoned their army.
The Nyen of the snow rose from snow.
The Nyen of the rock rolled off like boulders.
The Nyen of the slate mountain blazed like fire.
The Nyen of the meadow agitated like a gush of water.
64 tibetan ritual

The soul of Mitsen Ngapa and that of his animals

Were locked in the interior of a fort that had nine walls around it.
(141–226)
The padlocks were locked on the eastern side.
(The sense of the line here is unclear).
Other padlocks are locked on the northern side.
The doors of the fort made the noise “trag-se-trag” (khrags se khrags)
[when they are open or shut].
They are sealed, war re war.
The Nyen and Man began to dispute.
Mitsen Ngapa had now no locality where he could live. If he herds his
cattle up-stream, wolves attack them.
If he ploughs his fields downstream, they are harmed by drought and
hail.
His descendants risk having no offspring.
The yang (g.yang, “quintessential core”) of his cattle is seized.
In summer, lightning comes down from the sky.
Mitsen Ngapa therefore asked male and female shen [priests]
To perform divination and prognostication.
But they could not identify the malignant spirits.
So Shenrab Miwo (Gshen rab Mi bo) was requested to do the same.
Shenrab Miwo said: “What went wrong was the dispute between Man
and the Nyen.
The soul of Man is locked up in the padlocks of the Nyen.”
Mitsen said: “I request you to perform the to ritual and diagnosis.”
Shenrab said: “Go and find the priest Nyenbön Tangtang Drölwa (Gnyan
bon Thang thang grol ba).” (141–227)
The Nyenbön said: “We need to look for ritual items to offer to the Nyen.
Look for snow leopards and wildcats for the Nyen of snow mountain.
Look for snow cocks and grouse for the Nyen of slate mountain.
Look for deer and reindeer for the Nyen of meadow.
Look for eagles for the red Nyen of the rocks.
Look for tigers and leopards for the Nyen of forests.
Look for beavers and otters for the Nyen of water.
Look for gold and silver for Nyibu Kangring (Nyi bu rkang ring) and
Dabu Lagring (Zla bu lag ring).
They are the messengers of the Nyen.
To open the padlock of the Nyen, we also need gold, turquoise, silver and
conch.
 tibetan indigenous myths and rituals 65

We must have silk curtains and wool dyed in five colors. Look for goats,
sheep, horses, and yaks of the Nyen.
Mitsen had a hard time finding them.
He put forward all that he had by way of wealth.
That which he did not have, he obtained from the plain (i.e., elsewhere).
He offered them all to the Nyenbön.
The Nyenbön opened the first padlock with (the key in the form of) a
white bird of the Nyen.
He opened (141–228) the second padlock with (the key in the form of) a
sheep of the Nyen.
He opened the third padlock with (the key in the form of) a yak of the
Nyen.
He opened the fourth padlock (with key in the form of) an ox.
He opened the fifth padlock with a white horse.
The rooster of Mitsen,
Is it the wealth of his ancestors?
Its father was the warmth of the sky.
Its mother was the essence of the earth.
It was hatched out of a brown egg.
It was then given to Mitsen,
By the nine brothers of the gods.
Its crest is red like copper, zangs-se-zang.
Its ear is white like a conch and hears clearly.
Its sound overpowers the Nyen.
Its feathers are adorned with silk.
A gold key is attached to an iron axe that hung around its neck.
The rooster opened the nine padlocks without hindrance.
The turquoises of the soul of Man and cattle were recovered.”

The Tibetan text follows (Figure 2.3).

66 tibetan ritual
 tibetan indigenous myths and rituals 67

figure 2.3. The Tibetan text of the Gnyan ‘bum chapter sixteen.

notes
1. A critical edition of this text is now published. Katsumi Mimaki and Samten
Karmay, Bon sgo gsal byed (Clarification of the Gates of Bon), A Fourteenth Century Bon po
Doxographical Treatise (Kyoto: Graduate School of Letters, Kyoto University, 2007).
2. Dan Martin, Per Kvaerne, and Yasuhiko Nagano, A Catalogue of the Bon Kanjur
(Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology, 2003), numbers 8, 76, 77,2, 78, 79.
3. “Über das Bonpo-Sutra: ‘Das weisse Nâga-Hunderttausen,’ ” Mémoires de
l’Académie impériale des Sciences de St. Pétersbourg (MAIS), VIIe Sér., XXVIII/1 (1880):
1–86.
4. L’annuaire de Collège de France, Résumé des Cours de 1966–70.
5. Theg chen g.yung drung bon gyi bka’ ‘gyur (Lhasa: Kun grol lha sras mi pham
rnam rgyal, 1996), vol. 141.
6. Samten G. Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle, Studies in History, Myths, Rituals
and Beliefs in Tibet (Kathmandu: Mandala Publications, 2005), vol. 2: 80–87.
7. Marcelle Lalou, “Fiefs, Poisons et Guérisseurs,” Journal Asiatique 246/2 (1958):
Plate III, line 69, and Plate V, line 153.
8. David L. Snellgrove, The Nine Ways of Bon (London: Oxford University Press,
1967), 24–25.
9. The word also designates a certain type of ritual, see Shar rdza Bkra shis rgyal
mtshan, Legs bshad mdzod, translated in Samten G. Karmay, The Treasury of Good
Sayings: A Tibetan History of Bon (London: Oxford University Press, 1972), 62–63, 238.
In Bhutan, certain communal rituals of local deities are still called lhabön; see Françoise
Pommaret, “Bon and Chos. Local Community Rituals in Bhutan,” in Buddhism Beyond
Monasticism, ed. Antonio Terrone (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming).
10. For example, Pelliot tibétain 126 and 239 in Ariane Macdonald and Yoshiro
Imaeda, Choix de Documents tibétains conservé à la Bibliothèque nationale (Paris:
Bibliothèque national, 1978), vol. I; Pelliot tibétain 1040, 1042, 1134, 1136, 1194, 1285 in
Macdonald and Imaeda, Choix de Documents, vol. II.
68 tibetan ritual

11. Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle (1998) vol. 1, 382–83.
12. Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle, vol. 1, 432–50.
13. Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle (1998), vol. 1, 435–41.
14. Lalou, “Fiefs, Poisons et Guérisseurs”; F. W. Thomas, Ancient Folk Literature
from North-Eastern Tibet (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1957), 52–102.
15. Rolf A. Stein, “Du récit au rituel dans les manuscrits tibétains de Touen-
houang,” in Études tibétaines dédiées à la mémoire de Marcelle Lalou, ed. Ariane Macdonald,
(Paris: A. Maisonneuve, 1971), 479–547.
16. Lalou, “Fiefs, Poisons et Guérisseurs,” 2.
17. Thomas, Ancient Folk Literature, 14.
18. See Martin, Kvaerne and Nagano, A Catalogue of the Bon Kanjur.
19. Martin, Kvaerne and Nagano, A Catalogue of the Bon Kanjur, numbers 8, 76,
77,2, 78, 79.
20. Shar rdza Bkra shis rgyal mtshan, Legs bshad mdzod, translated in Karmay, The
Treasury, 124.
21. Thomas, Ancient Folk Literature, 2–5.
22. See Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle (1998), vol. 1, 249.
23. See Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle (1998), vol. 1, 318–20.
24. It begins from folio 220, line 2 of vol. 141. My summary stops at folio 228, line
6, though the story still continues.
25. Srid refers to Srid rje ‘Brang dkar, Skos to Skor rje Drang dkar, and Phywa to
Phywa rje Ring dkar, three deities in Bon cosmogony often known as Phywa srid skos
gsum; see Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle (1998) vol. 1, 128.
26. A type of celestial spirit, see Drang rje btsun pa Gser mig, Gzer mig (Beijing:
Krung go’i bod kyi shes rig dpe skrun khang, 1991), 36. The reader is cautioned that in
this translation Man refers to human beings and Men to the Sman spirits.
27. A type of celestial spirit, see Gser mig, Gzer mig, 36.
28. In Dunhuang manuscripts, it is known as Mi yul skyi mthing, and it is in fact
a name of a place in Kong po. See Karmay, The Arrow, vol. 1, 219–18.
3
Continuity and Change in
Tibetan Mahāyoga Ritual
Some Evidence from the Tabzhag
(Thabs zhags) Manuscript and Other
Dunhuang Texts

cathy cantwell and rob mayer

As with so many other archaeological sources from around the

world, it is always tempting to try to use the Dunhuang manuscripts
as a basis for significant historical generalizations far beyond their
direct remit. However, we must accept that this will always remain
a potentially perilous undertaking, because these manuscripts, dat-
ing to the early eleventh century or before, wonderful though they
are, in fact comprise only a partial and possibly unrepresentative
sample of the total manuscript corpus of their time, since all are
taken from a single multiethnic location situated at a geographical
and political extremity of the Tibetan cultural world. Nevertheless, it
is quite proper that we do try to derive some broader meaning from
such an extraordinary historical treasure as the Dunhuang Tibetan
texts: there is little doubt they can shed a brilliant if partial light on
the wider Tibetan world before the “New [Translation]” (Gsar ma
pa) period.
In the last few years, there has been a very welcome upsurge
of interest in the Dunhuang Tibetan Mahāyoga texts, which, like
most tantric texts, are either predominantly concerned with ritual,
or at least contain significant quantities of ritual materials. The
study of Dunhuang Tibetan Mahāyoga texts inevitably raises funda-
mental questions of ritual continuity and change: To what extent is
70 tibetan ritual

Dunhuang Tibetan Mahāyoga ritual the same as that imported from India,
and to what extent is it different? To what extent is it the same as that prac-
ticed today, and to what extent different? The answers of course are that
both changes and continuities are in evidence. Social contexts and horizons
of interpretation have surely changed beyond recognition—for example,
between India and Tibet, or between the tenth and the twenty-first centuries.
Nevertheless, continuity with the past is one of the most important ways in
which Tibetan Mahāyoga has sought to remain plausible and effective, and
for this purpose it has retained intact from the tenth century and earlier, both
textual items and grammars of ritual in significant quantities. In addition, it
is a textual tradition, so that innovation is rarely radical, and there is always
continuity. Clearly then, it is important in the analysis of Dunhuang Tibetan
Mahāyoga ritual that one strikes an appropriate balance between continuity
and change.
More than that, one naturally also seeks to understand the precise man-
ner in which continuity and change have occurred. How exactly did Tibetan
Mahāyoga differ from its Indian counterparts, and why? Were there coherent
indigenizing strategies, or was change less self-conscious? Can one describe
Tibetan Dunhuang Mahāyoga texts as hybrid—or are they wholly Buddhist?
What elements remained the same into the later tradition, and why were
those particular elements preserved? What changes occurred, and why those
particular changes? The pages that follow represent a preliminary approach
to addressing such questions, based on the evidence from a selected sample
of Dunhuang Tibetan Mahāyoga ritual texts we have been reading over the
last few years. Most of these were either ritual texts related to the “dagger”
(phur pa) ritual implement and precursors of the deity Dorje Purba (Rdo rje
phur pa), or a manuscript comprising a complete Mahāyoga tantra embedded
as lemmata within a long commentary (Dunhuang text IOL Tib J 321). The
Tantra is called the Tabki Zhagpa (Thabs kyi zhags pa), or Lasso of Methods, and
its commentary is simply described as its drelpa (‘grel pa). Current thinking
places these documents in the last half of the tenth century,1 while the text
they contain may well be older; but views on dating such manuscripts are
still in flux, and different theories might emerge in due course. Our findings
so far, based on the aforementioned sample of texts, can be summarized as
follows:

1. As much previous discussion of ritual might predict,2 we find that the

Tibetan tradition has been typically conservative over time. Rather
than unearthing a trove of ritual archaisms that are for the most part
 continuity and change in tibetan mah Ā yoga ritual 71

now lost, so far we have read rather little among the Dunhuang
Mahāyoga texts in our sample that is not still clearly evidenced in the
later tradition in some form or another. Thus, we have located much
of what we have read so far within living extant Nyingma traditions,
either canonized within the Collected Tantras of the Nyingma (Rnying
ma rgyud ‘bum = NGB), or codified within rituals, or preserved in
historical texts.
2. Some of this Dunhuang material is already broadly comparable to the
later tradition in its form, complexity, and sophistication.
3. Nevertheless, there is evidence that other Mahāyoga traditions which
appear at Dunhuang were further expanded and doctrinally codified
with time.
4. In addition, items that appear to be strongly emphasized at Dunhuang
can become comparatively less emphatic in the later tradition.
5. Some Dunhuang Tibetan Mahāyoga material contains a small pro-
portion of indigenous developments, many of which have contin-
ued into the later tradition. Within the sample so far analyzed,
these indigenous developments do not appear to reflect any simple
hybridization with indigenous pre-Buddhist religion (although evi-
dence for that might appear elsewhere), nor do they appear random
and haphazard. Instead, we perceive an adaptation of Buddhism to
the Tibetan cultural environment carried out very much on
Buddhist terms, although involving the integration of a few dis-
tinctively Tibetan tropes. Some of these adaptations enable the
location of aspects of Buddhist ritual within the frame of Tibetan
geography and history, by providing specifically Tibetan Buddhist
charter myths for Buddhist rites. (See also Samten Karmay’s chap-
ter in this volume for similar usages of myth in a Bönpo context.)
This process might indicate an interest in providing Buddhist rit-
ual calques on pre-Buddhist ritual structures, where such charter
myths with Tibetan characteristics (typically connected with the
sacral emperor and mountains) were of central importance. In
other instances, indigenous ritual categories are more simply
homologized with Indian Buddhist ritual categories. The extent to
which these adaptations collectively might represent a conscious
policy for Buddhist localization worked out by the dynastic Buddhist
hierarchy or its post-dynastic successors, or the extent to which
they represent processes that arose somewhat less self-consciously,
is not yet clear.
72 tibetan ritual

Evidence from Dunhuang Purba Materials

Unfortunately, we do not have a full length Purba Tantra from Dunhuang,

although we know that they already existed by that time because at least one is
cited in the Tabzhag manuscript.3 However, the Dunhuang Purba materials do
include a substantial twenty-two page text, with many interlinear notes, identi-
fied in the British Library as part III of IOL Tib J 331. This is the closest we get
to a full length Purba work from Dunhuang.
From a codicological point of view, Tib J 331 is a book (po ti) containing
three separate texts that appears to have been made to professional specifi-
cations. The page numberings and markings also appear to indicate that it
represents three remaining parts of what was originally a larger collection. As
we have it now, the twenty-two page Purba text is the third of the three texts.
The first and second are instructions for meditating on the deity Vajrasattva,
including one text attributed to a famous name within the Nyingmapa tradi-
tion, Mañjuśrīmitra of Ceylon. These Vajrasattva texts teach the development
phase of Mahāyoga in terms quite familiar to the modern tradition: First come
the three samādhis (ting ‘dzin gsum),4 then the building up of the foundation of
the elements (fire, wind, water, and earth), one above the other, arising from
the appropriate seed syllables, and the Immeasurable Palace above that, with
oneself as the deity; then enjoining (bskul ba); making offerings; the descent (of
blessings); mantra recitation of the hundred-syllable Vajrasattva mantra; and
so on. There is not much here that is unfamiliar to ritualists of the contempo-
rary Nyingma Mahāyoga tradition.
Our main focus, however, was the following Purba text, which has the title,
The Supreme Pacification, the Concise Enlightened Activity of Transference (Zhi
ba‘i mchog ‘pho ba’i ‘phrin las bsdus pa).
We found two things particularly striking about this work. First, almost
every single phrase and word of the text still carries through verbatim into the
modern scriptural and commentarial traditions. Second, it seems to represent
a well-developed and complex Mahāyoga tradition that does not appear particu-
larly primitive or only partially developed, when compared with the modern
Purba tradition.
The highly structured text seeks to organize Purba ritual within the catego-
ries of Seven Perfections (phun sum tshogs pa bdun). They are the perfections
of (1) form (gzugs), (2) consecrations (byIn rlabs), (3) recitation (bzlas brjod),
(4) activities (‘phrIn las), (5) time (dus), (6) place (gnas), and (7) oneself (i.e., the
practitioner) (bdag nyid). These are not to be confused with the better-known
Five Perfections of Mahāyoga, of (1) the place, (2) the principal practitioner,
 continuity and change in tibetan mah Ā yoga ritual 73

(3) the retinue, (4) the requisite substances, and (5) the time—a list widely
referred to in ritual manuals and commentaries in a general Mahāyoga Gener-
ation Stage context. In fact, the Seven Perfections found in our Dunhuang text
are slightly rare. Yet, they are not by any means forgotten. The entire twenty-
two page description of the Seven Perfections found in the Dunhuang text
nowadays exists more or less verbatim as chapters 8–11 of a NGB Purba tantra,
appropriately called the Tantra of the Perfections of Enlightened Activity (‘Phrin las
phun sum tshogs pa’i rgyud).5 The only real difference between the Dunhuang
text and the NGB text is that the latter inserts chapter endings and beginnings,
and also applies a different logic to the structure of the Seven Perfections by
ordering them to progress from the general to the particular, rather than vice
versa.6 From its inviolably preserved sanctuary within the canonical NGB, we
can easily see how this passage continues to inform the living commentarial
tradition. In 2006, at the International Association of Tibetan Studies confer-
ence in Bonn, Matthew Kapstein kindly introduced us to the Tibetan scholar,
Hūṃchen Chenagtshang, who made us a gift of his recently published edition
of the famous Purba commentary by the Reb-kong master, Magsar Paṇḍita
(Mag gsar Paṇḍita Kun bzang stobs ldan dbang po), who lived from 1781 to
1828.7 We were delighted to find that Magsar Paṇḍita had decided to use the
Tantra of the Perfections of Enlightened Activity system of Seven Perfections as
the basis for organizing his entire work. In that way, no doubt unknowingly,
Magsar was also propagating the teachings of Tib J 331.III, as was Hūṃchen, in
reproducing and popularizing Magsar’s work.
The long and complex rituals of the perfection of consecrations section
of Tib J 331.III—the second of its Seven Perfections—are also reproduced in
at least two other NGB tantras, the Purba Chunyi (Phur pa bcu gnyis), and the
Purbu Nyangdé (Phur bu Myang ‘das). No doubt, we will find them elsewhere
as well, in due course. As one might expect from their ongoing canonical sta-
tus, these passages are in no way a simple or less sophisticated version of the
Purba consecration ceremony when compared to modern ritual: on the con-
trary, they are very much the same thing, highly complex and intricate in their
performance.
Not everything about Tib J 331.III has remained exactly the same within the
modern tradition, however. For example, the three syllables for body speech
and mind, oṃ aṃ hūṃ, are standard in Tib J 331, as in many other Dunhuang
Mahāyoga texts, but have become rarer in the modern tradition, which has
moved to variants of oṃ āḥ hūṃ as standard, while still retaining oṃ aṃ hūṃ
as a less frequently used alternative.8 More substantially, the nineteenth cen-
tury Magsar’s use of the “Seven Perfections” is rather selective in retaining its
structure along with the entire content of the minor sections, but departing
74 tibetan ritual

from and elaborating significantly on the content of the major two sections on
consecrations and activity, as well as for the shorter section on recitation.
The particular sample of Purba literature that has happened to survive
intact for us in the twenty-two pages of Tib J 331.III includes a full-fledged
version of what is nowadays described in Nyingma Mahāyoga literature as sub-
sidiary rites, or mé-lé (smad las). Mé-lé makes use of destructive rites, but turns
them toward Buddhist soteriological goals embodying the highest Mahāyoga
view. Drölwa (sgrol ba), or “liberation”—a euphemism for ritual sacrifice—is
nowadays the most famous Purba mé-lé rite. It is a complex ritual procedure
that draws a good deal from Indian sacrificial categories, at the apex of which
an effigy representing spiritual negativities, primarily ego-clinging, but also
secondarily obstructing spirits, is stabbed with a ritual dagger (phur pa).9 It is
with this famous rite of drölwa that Tib J 331.III culminates.
A classic feature of Mahāyoga is that rites like drölwa have complex doc-
trinal exegeses without which the ritual might be in Buddhist terms mean-
ingless. These too are represented at Dunhuang in terms similar to those
found in contemporary texts. Tib J 43610 gives a definition of Mahāyoga
drölwa as liberation of onself (bdag bsgral ba) and liberation of others (gzhan
bsgral ba). A thousand years later, in a standard work representing main-
stream understandings of Purba ritual, Jamgön Kongtrül (‘Jam mgon Kong
sprul, 1813–99) likewise describes drölwa as twofold using exactly the same
words: liberating oneself through wisdom (bdag bsgral), and liberating oth-
ers through compassion (gzhan bsgral).11 Tib J 436 goes on to describe self-
liberation as achieving the “approach” practice to the deity; Kongtrül goes
on to explain self-liberation as practicing visualization of oneself in the form
of the deity—which amounts to precisely the same thing. Tib J 436 (line 6)
describes liberation of others in terms of the ten fields for liberation (zhing
bcu); Kongtrül does exactly the same.12
More obscure survivals into modern times can be witnessed by examin-
ing another Dunhuang Purba text, Pelliot tibétain (PT) 349, where we find
evidence for rites that, while still preserved within the modern tradition, have
perhaps become less prominent than they were in ancient times. PT 349 con-
tains some conceptually quite problematic verses which unequivocally identify
the male offspring heruka by the name Dīptacakra, which nowadays is usu-
ally associated with the ritually important female consort only. We have shown
these verses to a learned contemporary Nyingma master, and they caused him
some consternation and disbelief, presumably because of the key importance
of gender and sexual symbolism in these Purba rites. Since they cause such
problems for a representative of the modern tradition, one might have expected
them gradually to have been overlooked since Dunhuang times. Not at all. Even
 continuity and change in tibetan mah Ā yoga ritual 75

these verses manage to find a niche in several NGB scriptures; and also in a
corner of the most extensive of the present day Sakyapa (Sa skya pa) Purba
rites, known as the Purchen (Phur chen), which consequently uses the same
name for both the ritual purba visualized as a male offspring deity and for
the female consort deity.13 These verses also exist much more comfortably in
Guhyasamāja commentaries, which we speculate were perhaps closer to their
earlier environment.

Lang Pelgi Sengé (Rlang Dpal gyi seng ge) in PT 307

PT 307 offers a further example of ritual survivals from Dunhuang times. Here,
however, we also find evidence of development and codification over time that,
moreover, seemingly incorporates extremely interesting indigenization pro-
cesses. The indigenizing and codifying strategy discernable in this material is
typical of a pattern repeated elsewhere in Dunhuang and Nyingma literature,
so it is worth analyzing.
The ritual or liturgical text PT 307 narrates Padmasambhava and his
disciple, Lang Pelgi Sengé, together subduing and converting the seven god-
desses of Tibet, homologizing the well-known Indic saptamātṛkā with these
indigenous female deities.14 But more than this, the ritual has been codified,
developed, and preserved in the transmitted liturgical tradition. In countless
Nyingma rituals still regularly perfomed—one might even say as a part of the
standard basic template of all Mahāyoga (and often Anuyoga) ritual—the same
team of Padmasambhava and Lang Pelgi Sengé continues to be celebrated as
subduing the powerful female protectresses of Tibet. We find this, to give just
four examples out of the hundreds available, in the early twentieth century
Chimé Sogtig Terma (‘Chi med srog thig gter ma) of Zilnön Namkhé Dorje (Zil
gnon nam mkha’i rdo rje),15 in the mid-twentieth century Dujom Namchag Putri
Lejang (Bdud ‘joms Gnam lcags spu gri las byang),16 in the late Dilgo Khyentsé’s
(Dil mgo Mkhyen brtse) notes to the composite treasure text (gter ma), Lamrim
Yeshe Nyingpo (Lam rim ye shes snying po),17 and in Terdag Lingpa (Gter bdag
gling pa) and Dharma Śrī’s seventeenth-century Anuyoga sādhana, Tsogchen
düpa (Tshogs chen ‘dus pa).18
Just as important as the survival of Lang Pelgi Sengé in the narrative, or
the simple substitution of the saptamātṛkā for indigenous goddesses, is the very
particular manner in which the narrative has been embedded in and employed
within Mahāyoga ritual. We suggest that the narrative with its ritual reenact-
ments might represent an ingenious and symbolically potent Buddhist calque
on the indigenous Tibetan pattern in which each ritual system was inextricably
76 tibetan ritual

associated with its specific charter myth. Samten Karmay has eloquently argued
in a series of famous articles published over the last twenty years that such a
usage of charter myths was absolutely fundamental to pre-Buddhist Tibetan
culture. To summarize this topic, it is useful to cite one of Samten Karmay’s
several discussions:

[I]n Tibetan tradition myth is an integral part of rite. Together with the
ritual it forms a “model” (dpe srol). The ritual cannot function without
the myth and is therefore dependent upon it. In Tibetan popular ritu-
als, particularly those belonging to the Bonpo tradition, the mythical
part is called rabs (account). In this account, the officiant often identi-
fies himself with the main deity or another character of the myth. In
some cases, in order to justify his ritual action or to ensure its efficacy,
he recalls that he is a follower (brgyud ‘dzin) of the master who ini-
tially founded the ritual. The latter is therefore situated in a mythical
spatio-temporal context. Knowledge of the preceding myth is therefore
indispensable in order to perform the ritual action which is seen as the
reenactment of the mythical past.19

The word mang (smrang) is also used elsewhere for this kind of origin and
archetype myth as employed in ritual. In the narrative found within PT 307,
we see that the Nyingma ritual tradition has, from as early as Dunhuang times
until today, consistently taken up this very old and indigenously Tibetan (but
Buddhist) narrative to use as its equivalent to an indigenous charter myth, or
rab (rabs), to be reenacted in every subsequent ritual performance as mang, or
ritual reenactment of the original charter myth—together constituting a Bud-
dhist equivalent to the pesöl (dpe srol) complex. We have proposed elsewhere
that the accentuation of Buddhist equivalents of such pre-Buddhist charter
myth structures became an important feature of Nyingmapa adaptation or indi-
genization of Indian Buddhist ritual.20 Here we must emphasize that we are
definitely not claiming that charter myths were unknown to Indian Buddhism,
but rather that the Nyingma employed them in a distinctively indigenized fash-
ion.21 Thus the developed Nyingma tradition now presents a category of female
deity known as the Ancient Established Protectresses, or Tenma (brtan ma),
often enumerated as twelve-fold (brtan ma bcu gnyis), whose names, as Dalton
already has remarked, although typically fluid, nevertheless closely coincide
with the list of names given in PT 307. To the modern tradition, these Tenma
are mundane or semi-mundane leaders of hosts of further female deities whose
initial taming and binding under oath by Padma and Lang Pelgi Sengé must be
recalled at the end of all Nyingmapa ritual feast (tshogs) practices. The Tenma
 continuity and change in tibetan mah Ā yoga ritual 77

offering rites are so integral that they are very much the rule, rather than the
exception.
Hence, we can see that in the mythologies of Guru Padma, it is important
that the focus on the main Guru figure himself should not cause us to under-
estimate the symbolic value expressed in the accounts of the “team” efforts of
the archetypal students and patrons in promoting and continuing the tantric
tradition in Tibet. This aspect is not only stressed in the mythological stories,
but is built into tantric ritual liturgies and practice. It is symbolically crucial,
since Mahāyoga teachings are designed for subsequent practitioners to identify
themselves with the deity’s full enlightened expression. In the context of the
regular tantric ritual assembly feasts (tshogs), the group of practitioners seeks
to reenact and re-embody the archetypal creation of the tantric maṇḍala in the
Tibetan environment, in which the local spirits are integrated into the tantric
assembly. Idealized Tibetan predecessors of the subsequent practitioners thus
have a vital symbolic place. This is why Lang Pelgi Sengé—and, in other con-
texts, other early Tibetan figures as well—are explicitly referred to in such rites
as the Tenma and chetor (chad gtor) offering sections of the tsog rite. Another
example of “team work” in subduing local deities beyond the Tenma example
can be found in the Dujom Namchag Putri Lejang,22 where one finds a longer
list of Tibetan disciples (but still including Lang) who here help the Guru to
subdue the female Purba protectresses within Tibet.

Textual Continuities and Transformations

One begins to get the impression that rather little in the Dunhuang Tantric
Buddhist ritual repertoire, however obscure it might at first appear, was ever
subsequently thrown away. The ethos seems to have been that all rituals will
somehow, somewhere have a use, and so must be preserved intact for posterity
in the communal ritual treasury. At the same time, there is, of course, abun-
dant evidence that ritual texts could be broken down into component parts,
and recombined with other component parts to create new ritual wholes. The
central skill in authoring new ritual texts is to achieve a recombination of exist-
ing ritual parts into a new ritual whole, in a manner which nevertheless reas-
serts with great precision the particular ethos and symbolism of the tantric
genre being attempted. In pursuit of this goal, one can also find overlapping
passages between texts of ostensibly quite different Tantric genres. PT 349,
a Purba text, has exact parallels to canonical Guhyasamāja passages,23 which
in turn incorporate materials from dhāraṇī texts for the deity Dorje Dermo
78 tibetan ritual

(Rdo rje sder mo),24 which in turn share passages with canonical dhāraṇī texts of
the White Umbrella (Gdugs dkar)25—and so on and on. Thus, genetic connec-
tions are sometimes discernible within the ritual details shared between tantric
texts of differing genres and periods. Textual recycling can be at the larger
structural level as well: as mentioned earlier, the nineteenth-century scholar
Magsar retained the structure of the Seven Perfections, citing the Tantra of the
Perfections of Enlightened Activity as his source, but somewhat reconstrued the
uses of its principal categories. There are few, if any, rules governing the type
or nature or size of recyclable ritual items—only that they must work in their
new ritual context and genre. Of course, there is no doubt that this process hap-
pened constantly in India, as in Tibet. Beyond that, it is not only tantric ritual
that develops this way, but much of the world’s ritual and mythic systems.
A classic anthropological description of the process is found in Lévi-Strauss’s
exposition of what he dubbed “bricolage,” which he describes as the subtle and
ingenious “bending” of inherited items to new uses.26

The Tabzhag Manuscript

One of the most impressive Dunhuang tantric manuscripts is Tib J 321, com-
plete in 167 pages. As we have mentioned earlier, this text consists of a NGB
Mahāyoga scripture (also found in a few Kangyur editions), the Lotus Garland
of “Lasso of Method” (Thabs kyi zhags pa padma ‘phreng ba), embedded as lem-
mata within its commentary. There is no colophon. Copious interlinear notes,
however, add clarifications to the main texts, and these claim the commentary
to represent the teachings of Padmasambhava. A severely mutilated and cor-
rupted version of the text, including the embedded Tantra, survives in some
Tengyur (Bstan ‘gyur) editions, in all cases resembling the Dunhuang text in
lacking any colophon.27 Yet, this commentary does not occur in most major
Nyingma collections. Our study of this text is still in its infancy, but is already
yielding valuable data.28
Codicologically, the manuscript is produced to a high professional stan-
dard with pretty much consistently excellent calligraphy. It gives every sign of
institutional origin, quite different from some Dunhuang manuscripts such
as PT 349 (discussed earlier), which give the impression that they might have
represented an individual’s set of notes.
Doctrinally, it is a highly sophisticated exposition of Mahāyoga theory and
practice, with strong resemblances to the chief Mahāyoga Tantra of the Nying-
mapa, the Guhyagarbha, in its advocacy of the doctrine of the sameness of all
dharmas (mnyam pa’i chos). Vajrasattva is the interlocutor, and Vairocana the
 continuity and change in tibetan mah Ā yoga ritual 79

expounder of the Tabzhag Tantra. Right from the start, it presents complex
technical terms that remain to this day part of Nyingma tantric exegesis. For
example, in chapter 1, there is reference to the Three Characteristics (mtshan
nyid gsum) (of the Continuum of the Path) of Mahāyoga. These categories
remain very much a part of contemporary Mahāyoga exegesis: the late Dujom
Rinpoché, for example, analyzed them in his Exposition of the Teachings (Bstan
pa’i rnam gzhag), taking Padmasambhava’s Garland of Essential Instructions
(Man ngag lta ‘phreng) as his source.29 Dujom Rinpoché’s and the Garland’s
language and understanding both seem much the same as that of the Tabzhag
commentator. On the other hand, a complex teaching on the Three Maṇḍalas
(dkyil ‘khor gsum), developed over the first few chapters, seems quite distinctive,
although as yet, we are far from a considered assessment of how this may fit
with other transmitted interpretations.30
The commentary contains some pure theory and doctrine: for example,
on the relative merits of the Śrāvakayāna, the ordinary Mahāyāna, and the
Vajrayāna, on the ultimate and relative truths, and so on. Most of it, however,
comprises dense ritual instruction, but very much in the Mahāyoga idiom of
creatively integrating personal experience with Mahāyana view through the
medium of Mahāyoga ritual, taking the understanding of the sameness of all
dharmas or the dharmadhātu as the foundation. Hence, we find instructions
for transforming the everyday act of eating into a burnt offering (sbyin sreg,
Skt. homa) and for transforming all sensual enjoyments into offerings to the
Buddhas; special Vajrayāna interpretations of the ten perfections (pha rol tu
phyin pa, Skt. pāramitās); mention of transforming the five senses into the five
Buddha families, and the five sense objects into their consorts; very complex
instruction on transforming sexual intercourse into a practice of yoga; realiza-
tion of emotional defilements as having the commitments, or samayas, of the
five Buddhas as their ultimate nature; homa rites and purba rites organized
according to the different classes of enlightened activities, and so on and so
forth. A striking feature of the Tabzhag and its commentary is their emphasis
on the use of ritual for transcendental rather than mundane goals. We will be
publishing a more detailed study of this text later, including a more considered
appraisal of its possible origin from the same author as the Garland of Essential
Instructions.
So far as we have read, and we must emphasize that we still have some
way to go, we cannot see anything in the Tabzhag root text that might betray a
non-Indic origin. This probably helped justify its placement in some editions
of the Bka’ ‘gyur, where it finds its way into their “Ancient Tantras” (Rnying
rgyud) sections. Such acceptance was presumably further facilitated through
the Tantra’s endorsement by the early Sakya patriarchs, as we have discussed
80 tibetan ritual

earlier. It seems that no Sanskrit original could be found by Butön (Bu ston),
since the title is not listed in his History (Chos ‘byung) of 1322–23, nor in his
Catalogue of the Collection of Tantras (Rgyud ‘bum gyi dkar chag) of 1339. But
looking at the page layout of the original manuscript, and the way the text is
embedded in its commentary, some possible reasons to question the reliabil-
ity of the root text’s redaction (even if not its ultimate Indic provenance) do
emerge. Unlike the root tantra, the commentary might show signs of being
taught to or composed for Tibetans—for example, it etymologizes Tibetan
translational terms like kyil-khor (dkyil ‘khor). Now, the Tabzhag manuscript
has some root-tantra chapters so completely embedded in the commentary
(and without any distinguishing indications) that in many cases it is not at all
easy to distinguish between the root text and the commentary. In fact, unless
the reader is very highly educated and patient, it can sometimes be well nigh
impossible to discern the exact boundaries of the root text. Faced with such
a circumstance, a scribe seeking to extract the root text only is likely to copy
more rather than less, to make sure that none of the precious Tantra is left
out of his copy; thus perhaps incorporating partially local materials into the
Indian text. We have only just begun work on our detailed critical edition, but
it is interesting that we have already found significant variants between the
different versions of the root text, whose specific characteristics might well be
accounted for by scribes having picked up on different parts of the root text as
contained in the commentary.31
There might be a possible example of exactly this process of incorporating
commentarial material in the Tibetan transmissions of the Guhyasamāja Root
Tantra.32 The two NGB versions we have consulted agree on one additional line
(tshig rkang), which they give in the second verse of the third chapter, and this
corresponds to an interlinear note in the Dunhuang version, IOL Tib J 438,
but it is not found in four Bka’ ‘gyur editions (three consulted by Eastman and
one we additionally considered), nor, in one case at least, in the extant San-
skrit root verses.33 More broadly, it seems safe to say that faulty mechanisms
of scribal transmission may inadvertently introduce variation and elaboration
into a scriptural text, and may also suggest a striking way in which a textually
based ritual tradition may develop without any deliberate rationale.34

Concluding Reflections

The Tabzhag commentary opens an amazing window onto the ritual and doc-
trinal world of Tibetan tantra before the New (Gsar ma) Translation period. It
shows a thoroughly sophisticated and scholarly understanding of Mahāyāna
 continuity and change in tibetan mah Ā yoga ritual 81

Buddhism and of Mahāyoga Tantrism that is in many ways the equal of the
present-day tradition. Reading it alongside learned contemporary Nyingmapa
lamas in 2006/07, it was striking how familiar much of it was to them. While
it certainly has its own particular slant and ritual details, as one expects of a
famous Tantra, the Tabzhag is not in any way surprising or alien to the con-
temporary tradition.
It also quotes from a number of other famous Mahāyoga titles, mainly
from the Eighteen Tantras, including some exclusively NGB titles excluded
from the Bka’ ‘gyur, such as the Langchen Rab-bog (Glang chen rab ‘bog), the
Karmamāla, and a Kīlaya Chunyi (Kīlaya bcu gnyis), and Purba Chunyi-ki Gyü
Chima (Phur pa bcu gnyis kyi rgyud phyi ma; see note 4). Yet, it is interesting
that several of these quoted passages do not seem to exist in the surviving NGB
versions of those texts.
The Mahāyoga manuscripts we have studied probably date from the late
tenth to early eleventh century, although it is hard to be very clear in many cases.
They seem to represent a Tibetan Buddhism immediately prior to the Sarma
period. Since these are the earliest extant Mahāyoga texts, we must conclude
that when Tibetan Mahāyoga first enters our historical vision, it is a tradition
already well developed—as with the first appearances of Mahāyāna in India.
Are these signs of traditions that were once peripheral in Tibet, subsequently
taking center stage? Or of traditions that were originally oral, or partially oral?
Seen as a whole, the Dunhuang collection signals an active Tantric Bud-
dhism in that region by the late tenth century. Significant parts of Nyingma
tantric practice as we currently know it had already emerged in developed
form, while numerous dhāraṇī texts were also in use, as were some Kriyā,
Carya, and Yogatantra materials. Moreover, PT 849 shows that a handful of
early precursors of the Yoginī or Yoganiruttara tantras later associated with the
Sarma period were already being signaled, including, as Kapstein has recently
shown,35 an earlier variant of verses later to be associated with the Sarmapa
(Gsar ma pa) siddha tradition of Cintā, consort of Dārikapāda. One of the two
Catuṣpīṭhatantras, nowadays part of the Sarma tradition, is also cited in PT 849,
confirming the veracity of its Kangyur colophon, which mentions a first trans-
lation prior even to Smṛti’s of the tenth century.36
Unfortunately, the inadequacies and ambiguities in the surviving histori-
cal sources from the post-Imperial period means that we are not yet confidently
able to contextualize the evidence that the Dunhuang tantric texts offer us. Paul
Smith and Bianca Horlemann have demonstrated that the Tibetan federations
in the northeast in the early eleventh century were powerful in both military and
economic terms, acting as middlemen in trade between China and Inner Asia,
especially dealing in horses, and we even know the Chinese rendering of the
82 tibetan ritual

name of a famous Tibetan leader from that time: Jiaosiluo.37 Oblique insights
into the social and institutional base of Tibetan life at that time come from
Iwasaki,38 whose old Chinese sources describe a vibrant and populous Tibetan
Buddhist culture in nearby Tsongkha at the turn of the eleventh century, with
active monasteries. Political leaders with whom the Chinese had to deal at that
time were frequently monks, with the title Rinpoché (Rin po che). The old
imperial usage of tsenpo (btsan po) was also current among lay rulers. This fits
well with other evidence. In 1990, using Dunhuang texts, Helga Uebach was
the first to demonstrate that a lineage of successors to Śāntarakṣita still bearing
the imperial eclesiastical title of chomdendé-ki ringlug (bcom ldan ‘das kyi ring
lugs) had persisted at Samyé (Bsam yas),39 a finding further supported in Kap-
stein’s work on PT 849. More significant still, Uebach also showed that monas-
tic activity, including both ordination lineages and colleges of higher studies,
had persisted after Lang Darma’s (Glang Dar ma) time. This was particularly
so in the northeast, where several of Tri Relpachen’s (Khri Ral pa can) original
religious foundations had been situated, and where they continued unbroken
after 842. Ronald Davidson40 has since sought to expand on Uebach’s findings,
describing a vigorous tradition of Eastern Vinaya monks at that time. Not for
the last time in history, the sudden demise of a Tibetan state in 842 clearly did
not signify the sudden demise of Tibetan civilization, nor the instant deaths
of all learned Tibetans. The capacity of commerce, civilization, and culture to
continue without a functioning state is amply demonstrated in numerous his-
torical examples, including modern Nepal.
What we can deduce from a careful examination of the Dunhuang
Mahāyoga texts is a fascinating picture of a rich resource of well-made insti-
tutional text productions along with more informal writings, evidencing both
ritual continuities and changes. We find definite persistence of many ritual
and textual elements into later periods, but these may be accompanied by some
changes in their framing, and a concern to achieve viable indigenous adapta-
tions, for example, with the apparently quite early generation of charter myths
with strongly Tibetan or national characteristics that are still in use in Nyingma
Mahāyoga ritual today. We also sense the possibility of textual change occasion-
ally being stimulated by more spontaneous factors such as scribally generated
variants, perhaps involving the incorporation of annotations into root text.

notes
Our grateful thanks to the Arts and Humanities Research Council of the United
Kingdom, who funded this research at the University of Oxford, and to Professor José
Cabezón at the University of California Santa Barbara for generously inviting us to
attend the conference, during which an earlier version of this chapter was presented.
 continuity and change in tibetan mah Ā yoga ritual 83

Our thanks also to Professor Geoffrey Samuel for his insightful comments on the nature
of ritual.
1. Takeuchi, personal communication, February 2008; and also as repeated in
Dalton and van Schaik Tibetan Tantric Manuscripts from Dunhuang. A Descriptive
Catalogue of the Stein Collection at the British Library (Leiden: Brill, 2006), xxi.
2. Gavin Flood, An Introduction to Hinduism (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1996), 41–42; Maurice Bloch, From Blessing to Violence: History and Ideology in the
Circumcision Ritual of the Merina of Madagascar (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1986), especially 184–85, 194.
3. The Kı̄laya bcu gnyis is cited, as is the Phur pa bcu gnyis kyi rgyud phyi ma. None
of the three extant Phur pa bcu gnyis texts in the NGB seem to contain the lines cited in
the Thabs zhags (we have made a full search in one case, and have browsed the other two
without finding the lines), nor does any of the three extant NGB texts have a phyi ma, so
it is a little unlikely that the Thabs zhags is referring to a Phur pa tantra that still
survives.
4. These are the samādhi of suchness (de bzhin nyid kyi ting nge ‘dzin); the samādhi
of universal illumination (kun tu snang ba’i ting nge ‘dzin); the causal samādhi (rgyu’i ting
nge ‘dzin).
5. We have consulted three editions of the Rnying ma rgyud ‘bum (NGB) in con-
sidering this long parallel: the Mtshams brag manuscript edition, beginning volume
chi, 1023.4; the Sde dge xylograph edition, beginning volume wa, 348v.7; and the Gting
skyes manuscript edition, beginning volume sha, 523.6. These three can be taken as
representing each of the three lines of textual descent (Bhutanese, Eastern Tibetan, and
Southern Central Tibetan) which we discovered in our previous stemmatic analyses of
Phur pa texts from the Rnying ma rgyud ‘bum; see Cathy Cantwell and Robert Mayer,
The Kīlaya Nirvāṇa Tantra and the Vajra Wrath Tantra: Two texts from the Ancient Tantra
Collection (Vienna: Verlag der Osterreischischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2007),
16–18, 65–74.
6. The order of the Seven Perfections given in the NGB’s ‘Phrin las phun sum tshogs
pa’i rgyud is the perfection of: 1. oneself (bdag nyid); 2. time (dus); 3. place (gnas); 4. form
(gzugs); 5. consecrations (byin rlabs); 6. recitation (bzlas brjod); 7. activity (‘phrin las).
These correspond respectively to numbers 7, 5, 6, 1, 2, 3, 4 in Tib J 331.III. In the ‘Phrin
las phun sum tshogs pa’i rgyud, perfection of oneself, the practitioner, is completed in
Chapter Eight; Chapter Nine includes the perfections of time, place and form, and
begins consecrations; the remainder of the section on the perfection of consecrations
takes up Chapter Ten, and Chapter Eleven consists of the sections on the perfection of
recitation and activities.
7. Mag gsar Kun bzang stobs ldan dbang pa, Phur pa’i rnam bshad he ru ka dpal
bzhad pa’i zhal lung (Bcom ldan ‘das dpal chen rdo rje gzhon nu’i ‘phrin las kyi rnam par
bshad pa he ru ka dpal bzhad pa’i zhal lung), sNgags mang zhib ‘jug khang (Ngak Mang
Institute) (Beijing: Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 2003).
8. In Tib J 331, the syllable āṃ or aṃ occurs both in the context of the body, speech,
and mind trio and in the case of the syllables associated with the five places of the body
(red āṃ at the tongue). Other Dunhuang manuscripts which also give āṃ/aṃ include
Tib J 332 (f. 7a2–3), Tib J 754, Section 8, Pelliot tibétain 42 (f. 46.1–2 and 50.2–3), Pelliot
84 tibetan ritual

tibétain 626 and 634; see Sam van Schaik and Jacob Dalton, “Where Chan and Tantra
Meet: Tibetan Syncretism in Dunhuang,” in Susan Whitfield and Ursula Sims-Williams,
eds., The Silk Road: Trade, Travel, War and Faith (London: The British Library, 2004),
66. The usage is also found in some NGB texts, such as the Myang ‘das, Chapter
Eighteen; NGB, Sde dge ed., vol. zha, f. 68a; and Mtshams brag ed., vol. chi, f. 149b,
(298). It is also found in the root Guhyagarbha Tantra; Gsang ba’i snying po de kho na
nyid nges pa, NGB, Mtshams brag ed., vol. wa, 176–77.
9. On the use of effigies in rituals, see also the chapters by Mengele and Cuevas
in this volume.
10. Jacob S. Dalton and Sam van Schaik, Catalogue of the Tibetan Tantric Manuscripts
from Dunhuang in the Stein Collection, International Dunhuang Project, 2005, [Online]
available at http://idp.bl.uk/database/oo_scroll_h.a4d?uid=85029293610;bst=1;recnu
m=5288;index=1, image 4, top.
11. ‘Jam mgon Kong sprul Blo gros mtha’ yas, Dpal rdo rje phur pa rtsa ba’i rgyud
kyi dum bu’i ‘grel pa snying po bsdud pa dpal chen dgyes pa’i zhal lung, in his Rgya chen bka’
mdzod (n.d, n.p.), vol. X, 94.6. TBRC Resource Code W24173; www.tbrc.org gives pub-
lication details as Paro: Ngodup, 1975–76.
12. ‘Jam mgon Kong sprul, Phur pa rtsa rgyud kyi ‘grel pa, 97.3.
13. There is a major Phur chen commentary by the great seventeenth century Sa
skya pa scholar A myes zhabs (‘Jam mgon A myes zhabs Ngag dbang kun dga’ bsod
nams, 1597–1659), Bcom ldan das rdo rje gzhon nu’i gdams pa nyams len gyi chu bo chen
po sgrub pa’i thabs kyi rnam par bshad pa ‘phrin las kyi pad mo rab tu rgyas pa’i nyin byed,
reproduced from manuscript copies of the ancient Sa-skya xylographic prints (New
Delhi: Ngawang Sopa, 1973); microfiche, The Institute for Advanced Studies of World
Religions, ‘Khon lugs Phur pa’i rnam bśad, ‘Chams yig brjed byaṅ, LMpj 012,223. The Phur
chen was compiled over generations by the Sa skya hierarchs. For its citation of
Dīptacakra, see Sa skya Phur chen: Dpal rdo rje gzhon nu sgrub pa’i thabs bklags pas don
grub (Rajpur, India: Dpal sa skya’i chos tshogs, nd, Tibetan date given as 992), f. 24r.6.
14. Jacob Dalton, “The Early Development of the Padmasambhava Legend in
Tibet: A Study of IOL Tib J 644 and Pelliot tibétain 307,” Journal of the American Oriental
Society 124/4 (2004), 759–72.
15. Although this gter ma was originally revealed by Zil gnon nam mkha’i rdo rje
(19th century), the textual cycle has contributions from the Fifteenth Karma pa, Mkha’
khyab rdo rje (1871–1922), and the late Bdud ‘joms rin po che; hence, it is contained in
Bdud ‘joms Rin po che, ‘Jigs bral ye shes rdo rje, The Collected Writings and Revelations
of H. H. bDud-’joms Rin-po-che ‘Jigs bral ye shes rdo rje (Kalimpong: Dupjung Lama,
1979–85), vol. pha, 134–35. This specific section is within the root practice text by the gter
ston himself.
16. Bdud ‘joms rin po che, The Collected Writings, vol. tha, 139, 143, in the brtan ma
rite.
17. This gter ma was jointly revealed by Mchog gyur gling pa (1829–79) and
Mkhyen brtse dbang po (1820–92), and its commentary written by Kong sprul; see Erik
Pema Kunsang (trans.), The Light of Wisdom, vol. II (Boudhanath: Rangjung Yeshe
Publications, 1998), 204–05.
 continuity and change in tibetan mah Ā yoga ritual 85

18. In Tshogs chen ‘dus pa’i sgrub thabs dngogs grub char ‘bebs of the Smin grol gling
tradition of Gter bdag gling pa (1646–1714) and Dharma Śrī (1654–1718), Rlangs chen
Dpal gyi seng ge, together with the Slob dpon padma ‘byung gnas, is similarly identified
in the brtan ma bskyang ba section as the one responsible for binding the protectresses
under oath; Bdud-’Joms ‘Jigs-bral-ye-śes-rdo-rje, Bdud ‘joms Bka’ ma: Rñin ma Bka’ ma
rgyas pa (Kalimpong: Dupjung Lama, 1982–87), vol. pha, 436.1.
19. Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle (1998), vol. 1: 245, 288–89, and elsewhere.
20. Although more analysis is still required, we believe we have also found that
several such old indigenizing passages in later Buddhist Mahāyoga which integrate
myth with ritual tend to reproduce an Old Tibetan tripartite narrative structure or liter-
ary form. This form typically renders the material into three distinct sections: myth,
meditational or doctrinal explanation, and ritual instruction.
21. In Cantwell and Mayer, “Why did the Phur pa Tradition become so Prominent
in Tibet?,” we point out that a prime example of this embedding of charter myth struc-
tures within Buddhist Mahāyoga ritual is the taming of Rudra myth as used within the
Phur pa tradition. The originally Indic taming of Rudra myth becomes just as inextrica-
bly entwined and essential to Tibetan Rnying ma Mahāyoga Phur pa rituals, as any of
the Bön or pre-Buddhist dpe srol examples researched by Karmay. The taming of Rudra
narratives in the canonical Phur pa scriptures relate such fundamental rabs (mythic nar-
ratives) as the origins of the entire Vajrayāna, and the origins of the Phur pa yi dam
deity; so that in rituals it can provide the archetype for such major rites as deity yoga,
nondual offerings, the visualization of the cemetery wrathful palace, sgrol ba, as well as
other more minor aspects of ritual practice, such as the leftovers or excess offerings in
tshogs rituals. Perhaps, even more important in overall terms are the mythic complexes
surrounding Padmasambhava, which provide the charter for so much Rnying ma ritual
life of every kind, from the revelation of gter ma, to the taming of local deities. It is well
worth testing the hypothesis that the Padmasambhava mythic complex (likewise
Shenrab and Gesar) could be considered in part to have gained some of its initial impe-
tus as a Buddhist analogue (functionally and structurally speaking) to the pre-Buddhist
mythic complex of the descent of the sacral emperor from the heavens, which, as Karmay
has argued, provided a fundamental central matrix upon which so much of the autoch-
thonous religion was based; Karmay, Arrow and Spindle (1998) vol. 1: 289. We will be
looking more deeply into this question elsewhere.
22. Bdud ‘joms rin po che, The Collected Writings, vol. tha, 139.
23. For example, from the Piṇḍikramasādhana of Nāgārjuna, Katsumi Mimaki and
Toru Tomabechi, eds., Pañcakrama: Sanskrit and Tibetan Texts Critically Edited with
Verse Index and Facsimile Edition of the Sanskrit Manuscripts, Bibliotheca Codicum
Asiaticorum 8 (Tokyo: The Centre for East Asian Cultural Studies for Unesco, 1994), ff.
2a4–b3; and the Piṇḍikṛta-sādhanopāyikā-vṛtti-ratnāvalī or Mdor bsdus pa’i sgrub thabs kyi
‘grel pa rin chen phreng ba attributed to Ratnākaraśānti, Peking no. 2690, vol. 62, ff.
297b.7–298b.2.
24. For example, the mantra oṃ gha gha ghātaya ghātaya sarvaduṣṭān phaṭ kīlaya
kīlaya sarvapāpān phaṭ hūṃ hūṃ vajrakīla vajradhara ājñāpayati sarvavighnānāṃ
kāyavākcittaṃ kīlaya hūṃ phaṭ—which is identified as Rdo rje sder mo’s mantra and
86 tibetan ritual

which occurs in both Rdo rje sder mo’s own texts and in Guhyasamājatantra literature,
especially verse 58 of Chapter Fourteen of the Guhyasamājatantra.
25. For instance, the phrase, “The phur bu strikes, severing the vidyā mantra …”
(rig [or rigs] sngags gcad do/ phur bus gdab bo/) is repeated in rDo rje sder mo texts, such
as that found in Dil mgo mkhyen brtse rin po che, Skyabs rje dil mgo mkhyen brtse rin po
che’i bka’ ‘bum (Delhi: Shechen Publications, 1994), vol. ta, 265. It is also found in
White Umbrella texts such as the, ‘Phags pa de bzhin gshegs pa’i gtsug tor nas byung ba’i
gdugs dkar po can gzhan gyis mi thub pa zhes bya ba’i gzungs; the text is given in two ver-
sions in the Sde dge Bka’ ‘gyur, Toh. nos. 592 and 593, Rgyud ‘bum pha, ff. 219a7–224b2;
224a2–229b7. Moreover, it is clear from the English version of a rDo rje sder mo dhāraṇī
text in our possession—Joan Nicell, with the help of Ven. Geshe Jampa Gyatso, The
Dharani of Glorious Vajra Claws (1996; reprint Pomaia, Italy: Istituto Lama Tzong
Khapa, 2000)—that a long list of evils derives from the same ultimate source as those
given in the White Umbrella texts. The items are shared, but slightly rearranged in
order.
26. Claude Lévi-Strauss, The Savage Mind (London: Wiedenfield and Nicholson,
1976), 16 ff.
27. Dalton and van Schaik have reported that the Peking Bstan ‘gyur version cites
Vimalamitra in its colophon; in fact, the Peking Bstan ‘gyur version has no colophon at
all. See Dalton and van Schaik, Tibetan Tantric Manuscripts from Dunhuang, 51.
28. The root tantra (‘Phags pa thabs kyi zhags pa pad mo’i phreng don bsdus pa zhes
bya ba) is included in the “Old Tantras” (Rnying rgyud) section of Grags pa rgyal
mtshan’s Kye’i rdo rje’i rgyud ‘bum gyi dkar chags, which was a source for the first Snar
thang Bka’ ‘gyur, and it is also in ‘Phags pa’s slightly later Tantra catalogue; on the latter,
see Helmut Eimer, “A Source for the First Narthang Kanjur: Two Early Sa skya pa
Catalogues of the Tantras,” in Transmission of the Tibetan Canon: Papers Presented at a
Panel of the 7th Seminar of the IATS, Graz 1995, ed. Helmut eimer (Vienna: Verlag der
Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1997), 52. So, although it never gained
acceptance into the main bodies of all Bka’ ‘gyur editions, it was accepted within the
separate Rnying rgyud sections of such Bka’ ‘gyurs as the Co ne, Sde dge, Lhasa, Li
thang, Snar thang, Peking, and Urga. Among the Rnying ma pa, the root tantra was
from the start prominently placed within the NGB as one of the 18 key Tantras of
Mahāyoga. Conversely, despite the root tantra being such a central Rnying ma text, its
commentary (‘Phags pa thabs kyi zhags padma ‘phreng gi don bsdus pa’i ‘grel pa) seems lost
to the Rnying ma tradition, and survives only in a somewhat mutilated form in the
Peking, Snar thang, and Golden Bstan ‘gyur editions (but not in Sde dge or Co ne).
Many of the Tibetan canonical versions offer no Sanskrit title, although the Bhutanese
NGB editions venture ārya ka la pa sha padma mā le sang kra ha, which might intend
something along the lines of *Ārya upāya-pāśa padma-mālā saṃgraha, although the ka la
element is unclear—the best we can guess is that it might once have been related to
kalparāja, since rtog pa’i rgyal po occurs in the Dunhuang text’s colophonic title. Note
that Alaka Chattopadhyaya suggests for the Bstan ‘gyur commentary the reconstruction
of *Upāya-pāśa-padma-mālā-piṇḍārtha-vṛtti; Catalogue of Kanjur and Tanjur: Vol. 1: Texts
(Indian Titles) in Tanjur (Calcutta: Indo–Tibetan Studies, 1972), 49. Adelheid Herrmann-
Pfandt suggests for the Dunhuang commentary front title the reconstruction of
 continuity and change in tibetan mah Ā yoga ritual 87

*
Ārya-arthasaṃgraha-nāma-upāyapāśa-padmāvali-vṛtti, and for the colophonic title,
*
Upāyapāśa-padmamālā-kalparāja-arthasaṃgraha-nāma-vṛtti; see Adelheid Herrmann-
Pfandt, “Eine Quellenkunde des esoterischen (tantrischen) Buddhismus in Indien von
den Anfängen bis zum 9. Jahrhundert,” unpublished Habilitationsschrift, Philipps-
Universität Marburg/Lahn, 2000, 270–71. A much earlier and more contemporaneous
reference to the Sanskrit title comes from the Dunhuang text that Hackin has referred
to as the Formulaire Sanscrit-Tibétain du XE Siècle (PT 849). In Joseph Hackin, ed.,
Formulaire Sanscrit-Tibétain du XE Siècle, 2 vols., Mission Pelliot en Asie Centrale, Série
Petit in Octavo (Paris: Librarie orientaliste Paul Geuthner, 1924), 2: 6, we see that rgyud
thabs kyi zhags pa is rendered a mo ga pa sa tan tra. This is obviously wrong—a funda-
mental confusion between the popular Amoghapāśa literature and the somewhat rarer
*
Upayapāśa; hence it serves not as evidence for the Sanskrit title of the Thabs zhags, but
rather as evidence (were any more needed) that PT 849 is not necessarily a reliable
source for Sanskrit title reconstructions, and this pace Ronald M. Davidson, Tibetan
Renaissance: Tantric Buddhism in the Rebirth of Tibetan Culture (New York: Columbia
University Press, 2005), 404, who uncritically accepts PT 849 as a reliable source for
Sanskrit title reconstructions.
29. The annotations in the Thabs zhags Chapter One (f. 1b5) present them as:
“When [one] understands through the Characteristic of Knowledge, by the inherent
power of becoming familiarized with the Characteristic of the Entrance, the Characteristic
of the Result is accomplished as Buddha body, speech and mind”: shes pa’i mtshan nyid
gyis rtogs na ‘jug pa’i mtshan nyid gyis goms pa’i mthus ‘bras bu ‘i mtshan nyid sku gsung
thugs su ‘grub bo. In Bdud ‘joms rin po che, following the Man ngag lta ‘phreng; see
Samten G. Karmay, The Great Perfection: A Philosophical and Meditative Teaching of
Tibetan Buddhism (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1988), 167. These are given (in Dorje and Kapstein’s
translation) as (1) rtogs pa rnam pa bzhi’i tshul rig pa ni shes pa’i mtshan nyid (awareness
in the manner of the four kinds of realization is characteristic of knowledge), (2) yang
nas yang du goms par byed pa ni ‘jug pa’i mtshan nyid (repeated experience of it is charac-
teristic of the entrance”, and (3) goms pa’i mthus mngon du gyur ba ni ‘bras bu’i mtshan
nyid (actualization of it by the power of experience is the characteristic of the result). See
Dudjom Rinpoche, The Nyingma School of Tibetan Buddhism: Its Fundamentals and
History, trans. and ed. Gyurme Dorje and Matthew Kapstein, 2 vols (Boston: Wisdom
Publications, 1991), 1: 265, and 2: 111.
30. The annotator (ff. 1b2, and 13b5) summarizes the list as consisting of: the
maṇḍala of natural qualities, the maṇḍala of the mind and the maṇḍala of (its) reflec-
tions (rang bzhin, yid, and gzugs brnyan). However, the discussion in the main text does
not seem quite so straightforward in its categorization of the three.
31. This in turn might indicate that the archetype of the Thabs zhags in Tibet
was the version embedded in the commentary—or else that the commentary was
later used to emend a separately transmitted root text, thus complicating the textual
transmission.
32. See Eastman’s preliminary 1980 study of the virtually complete Dunhuang man-
uscript, IOL Tib J 438; Kenneth W. Eastman, “The Dun-huang Tibetan Manuscript of the
Guhyasamājatantra,” Report of the Japanese Association for Tibetan Studies, 26 (March 1980):
8–12, English language appended version of “Chibetto-go Guhyasamājatantra no tonkō
88 tibetan ritual

shutsudo shahon”. Eastman collates the verses of Chapter Three of the Tantra, together
with three Bka’ ‘gyur witnesses (Sde dge, Snar thang and Peking) and one Southern Central
Rnying ma rgyud ‘bum edition. We have also consulted the Stog Palace Bka’ ‘gyur and
another Rnying ma rgyud ‘bum edition representing the Bhutanese line of descent.
33. Philological analysis of such transmissional variants remains only partially
resolved at present; we hope to contribute more in forthcoming publications. In particu-
lar, we wish to problematize the widespread conception, repeated by Eastman, of dis-
tinctively NGB transmissions that differ from Bka’ ‘gyur transmissions, at least in the
case of texts like the Thabs zhags and the Guhyasamāja that are shared between the Bka’
‘gyur and the NGB. Might not regional factors of economy and convenience on some
occasions outweigh sectarian factors in choice of exemplar? In the case of the Thabs
zhags, the sDe dge bKa’ ‘gyur and the sDe dge NGB texts seem to have been made from
the same blocks.
34. In the Phur pa tradition, two apparently minor scribal variants of a phrase
within a key root verse (srog gi go ru, or srog gi sgo ru) have led to two rather different
commentarial elaborations; see Robert Mayer, A Scripture of the Ancient Tantra Collection:
The Phur-pa bcu-gnyis (Oxford: Kiscadale, 1996), 213–16.
35. Matthew Kapstein, “New Light on an Old Friend: PT 849 Reconsidered,” in
Tibetan Buddhist Literature and Praxis: Studies in its Formative Period, 900–1400,
ed. Ronald M. Davidson and Christian K. Wedemeyer (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 23–29.
36. The Stog Bka’ ‘gyur catalogue includes the following words in the colophon to
one of its two Catuṣpīṭha scriptures: “translated anew by Smṛtijñānakīrti” (smṛtijñānakīrtis
gsar du bsgyur te); Tadeusz Skorupski A Catalogue of the Stog Palace Kanjur (Tokyo: The
International Institute for Buddhist Studies, 1985), 206. This Indian paṇḍit’s visit to
Tibet in the late tenth or early eleventh century is often said in traditional sources to
mark the watershed between Rnying ma and Gsar ma periods (Dudjom Rinpoche, The
Nyingma School, 11), and Rongzom Mahāpaṇḍita was believed to be his reincarnation
(Dudjom Rinpoche, The Nyingma School, 703). If Smṛtijñānakīrti had indeed retrans-
lated this Catuṣpīṭha, or translated it anew, as the colophon suggests, this supports the
evidence in PT 849 that a previous translation had been current in Tibet before the Gsar
ma period.
37. Paul J Smith, Taxing Heaven’s Storehouse: Horses, Bureacrats, and the Destruction
of the Sichuan Tea Industry 1074–1224, Harvard-Yenching Institute Monograph Series
no. 32 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 1991), 27; and Bianca Horlemann, “On the
Origin of Jiaosiluo, the first ruler of the Tsong kha tribal confederation in the eleventh
century A mdo, in Zentralasiatische Studien 34 (2005): 127–54; also “The Relations of the
Eleventh-Century Tsong kha Tribal Confederation to its Neighbour States on the Silk
Road,” in Contributions to the Cultural History of Early Tibet, ed. Matthew Kapstein and
Brian Dotson (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 79–101.
38. Tsutomu Iwasaki, “The Tibetan Tribes of Ho-hsi and Buddhism During the
Northern Sung Period,” Acta Asiatica 64 (1993): 17–37.
39. Helga Uebach, “On Dharma Colleges and Their Teachers in the Ninth Century
Tibetan Empire,” in Indo-sino-tibetica: studi in onore di Luciano Petech, ed. Paolo Daffinà
(Rome: Universita di Roma, 1990), 393–417.
40. Davidson, Tibetan Renaissance, chap. 3, 84–116.
4
The Convergence of
Theoretical and Practical
Concerns in a Single Verse
of the Guhyasamāja Tantra
yael bentor

One of the most well-known verses of the Guhyasamāja Tantra—a

verse incorporated into many practices of the Guhyasamāja—is found
in its second chapter, the chapter on the “mind directed at enlighten-
ment” (bodhi-citta, byang chub sems). Here the Tathāgata, whose name
is “Vajra-Body, Vajra-Speech and Vajra-Mind of All Tathāgatas,” dwelt
in absorption,1 and uttered the following verse.2

abhāve bhāvanābhāvo bhāvanā naiva bhāvanā |

iti bhāvo na bhāvaḥ syād bhāvanā nopalabhyate ||3

This chapter first examines the role of this verse in the practice of the
Guhyasamāja, and then explores how it was understood. We then fol-
low the shifts in philosophical affiliation this verse underwent over
time.

The Role of Our Verse in the Practice of the Guhyasamāja

In the most important sādhana manual for the practice of the

Guhyasamāja according to the Ārya tradition, the Piṇḍī-krama-sādhana
(Mdor byas sgrub thabs), by Nāgārjuna,4 our verse appears, with small
variations, at the very beginning of the generation of the maṇḍala and
the deities dwelling in it. In introducing it, Nāgārjuna explains:5 “[The
90 tibetan ritual

yogis] meditate that in the ultimate truth the three realms are devoid of intrin-
sic nature (niḥsvabhāva).” He then concludes:6 “With this verse, [the yogis]
meditate that the nature of the animate and inanimate [world] is empty (śūnya,
stong pa), and with this ritual method, the animate and inanimate are blessed
as the ground of pristine wisdom (jñāna-bhūmi, ye shes kyi sa).”
In another central manual on the practice of the Guhyasamāja of the Ārya
tradition, the Samāja-sādhana-vyavasthāli (Rnam gzhag rim pa),7 Nāgabuddhi
instructs the practitioners to meditate, while reciting this verse, on everything
as having the nature of the space that remains after the destruction of the three
realms at the end of the eon.
Hence, the meditation here is a meditation on emptiness. In a type of ritual
death, practitioners dissolve themselves and their entire world into emptiness.
The new pure rebirth of the practitioners as deities in the celestial mansion of the
maṇḍala then arises from emptiness. Emptiness here corresponds to the empty
eon in between the previous and the later worlds in a cosmological cycle, which
is understood not as nothingness, but as something that has the potential for the
recreation of the new world. And for this reason, emptiness here is called the
ground of pristine wisdom—it is the ground for all phenomena. During the prac-
tice of the creation stage, the kyerim (bskyed rim), the elimination of all appear-
ances of the world and all its inhabitants within the practitioner’s own mind is
the ground for all the visualizations during the meditation that follows. And this
initial meditation on emptiness is practiced while our verse is recited.
This verse is obviously mantra-like, alliterating (anuprāsa) the sounds bha,
va, and na. Moreover, it puns on the meanings derived from the root √bhū. Bhāva
is being, existing, that which exists, an entity, an existing thing, and all earthly
objects. Thus, bhāva indicates both a thing and a state of existence. In the first
sense it can be translated as an entity or a thing; and as a state of existence, bhāva
can mean existing, and abhāva not existing. As for bhāvanā, it is usually trans-
lated as meditation. This noun is in the causative form, and carries the meanings
of causing to be, bringing into existence, creating, and producing.
This meaning of meditation is indeed the foundation of the creation stage.
Our verse is recited immediately after practitioners visualize away ordinary
appearances, and right before they begin to visualize themselves as enlight-
ened beings at the center of the celestial mansion of the maṇḍala. The pun
on the meaning of the nature of existence (bhū, bhāva) and of meditation
(bhāvanā)—in the sense of “causing to be”—is very germane at this point of
the practice. The practitioners may reflect here: “Into what would the ordi-
nary world disappear?” “How would the enlightened realm be created?” “Does
the ordinary world exist?” “Is the ordinary world a meditation, that is to say,
‘caused to be,’ by the mind?” “Does the realm of the maṇḍala exist? Is it more
 the convergence of theoretical and practical concerns 91

real or less real than the ordinary world?” “Since it is obvious that this enlight-
ened realm is created by the mind, isn’t the ordinary world similarly a result
of visualization or mental construction?” “On the other hand, the deities and
the celestial mansion where they reside have arisen from emptiness, the true
nature of all things, so they must be real.” And so on.
The pun on bhū and bhāvanā is lost when the Sanskrit verse is translated
into other languages. The etymology of the Tibetan verb for “to meditate,”
gompa (sgom pa), is not “to cause to be,” but rather “to habituate.” Still, in certain
contexts the meaning of the Sanskrit word does carry through. The final verb
upa-√labh also bears a variety of meanings. The difficulty in understanding the
meaning of the Sanskrit verse itself, as well as the problem of translating it into
Tibetan contributed to the great variety of interpretations the verse received.
This is how this verse appears in the Tibetan translation of the Guhyasamāja
Tantra:8

dngos po med pas sgom pa med/bsgom par bya ba bsgom pa min /

de ltar dngos po dngos med pas/sgom pa dmigs su med pa’o //

The differences between this Tibetan translation and the Sanskrit go beyond
those that are the result of the grammar of these two languages. In the Tibetan
translation, we have in the first line (pāda), dngos po med pas (because things
do not exist) for abhāve, which is the usual translation of abhāve, but as noted
already, does not have exactly the same meaning; in the second pāda we have
bsgom par bya ba (one ought to meditate) for bhāvanā,9 and in the third line
again the verbal noun med pas (because they do not exist), while the Sanskrit
has a negation of an optative of a verb of existence, na bhāvaḥ syād.

The Interpretation of Our Verse in the Pradīpoddyotana

in Sanskrit

As we observed earlier, this verse may be rendered into English in more than
one way. Let us now examine how this “mantra” was understood and inter-
preted. In the most famous commentary on the Guhyasamāja Tantra according
to the Ārya tradition, the Pradīpoddyotana, Candrakīrti interprets our verse by
means of the tantric hermeneutical method called the tsulshi (tshul bzhi) or “the
four ways,” which consists of the literal, common, hidden, and ultimate levels
of interpretation.10
Even though Candrakīrti does not explicitly say so, the literal level of
interpretation here is clearly based on Nāgārjuna’s tetralemma. The four
lines are explained in correspondence with the four possibilities: existing,
92 tibetan ritual

not existing, both existing and not existing, and neither existing nor not exist-
ing. Still, we should not rush to the conclusion that since this work is writ-
ten by a Candrakīrti, a Mādhyamika explanation is what we must expect here.
Candrakīrti explains [I summarize and interpret]:11

1. [If there are no things], there can be no meditation (bhāvanā = causing

to be) because if there are no things, there cannot be causing to be.
2. [If there are things], then meditation [causing to be] is not a meditation,
because even without meditation [causing to be], there are existing
things.
3. [If there are both things and no things]: that which is both a thing and a
no thing would not exist, therefore, that thing [which is both] would not
be a thing.
4. [If there are neither things nor no things], then, there cannot be medita-
tion [causing to be]. Therefore, no meditation is to be perceived.

So far, this is the literal level of interpretation. If we look at all four levels of
interpretation, then what we find here is not the usual tantric hermeneutic
by means of the tsulshi.12 Instead, it is the fourfold meditation common in
Yogācāra writings that is applied here to explain our verse.
The stages of the fourfold meditation that are found in some of the Five
Works of Maitreya (Byams chos sde lnga) and in Vasubandhu’s commentaries
on them are:13

1. Apprehending things to the extent they exist.

2. Apprehending mind-only or mental-events-only (cittamātra, sems tsam).
3. Apprehending that there is also no mind-only.
4. Realizing suchness.

How is this fourfold meditation applied in the Pradīpoddyotana in explaining

our verse?14

1. The first level is “apprehending things to the extent they exist”—here,

according to the four possibilities of Nāgārjuna.
2. The second stage is “apprehending mind-only” or “mental-events-only”
(cittamātra, sems tsam) by realizing that external things are creations of
the mind (cittamaya).
3. In the third stage, Candrakīrti maintains that given the absence of
things, neither is there mind-only, and the two truths are indivisible.
4. On the ultimate level, for those who realize the stage of union15—and
here Candrakīrti does use tantric terminology—there is no more cling-
ing to meditator, meditation, and object of meditation.
 the convergence of theoretical and practical concerns 93

The sādhanas use the recitation and meditation on our verse as a part of medita-
tion on emptiness, and according to Candrakīrti’s Pradīpoddyotana, this medi-
tation is the fourfold meditation typical of treatises of the Yogācāra School. As
often pointed out,16 Yogācāra works offer more dynamic processes, especially
meditative processes of transformation, and such processes are also the foun-
dation of tantric practices, such as the creation stage. The fourfold meditation
is a process that matches the creation stage well.
During the practice of the creation stage, at first the practitioners visualize
away their ordinary world and reflect on the extent it exists. In the second stage,
they create, in their minds, their enlightened realm—with themselves as dei-
ties and with their environment as the celestial mansion of the maṇḍala—and
they meditate on mind-only. In the third stage, they realize that this creation,
much like their ordinary world, is not real; and by understanding that the true
nature of all phenomena is not mental-event only, they understand that neither
is there mind-only. Finally, after dissolving their visualization into emptiness,
they realize the suchness of all things, and the nonduality of emptiness and
appearances.

Two Different Interpretations

of Our Verse in Tibetan Translation

There are two different explanations of our verse in works translated into
Tibetan: one in the Tibetan translation of the Pradīpoddyotana,17 and the other
in Śāntipa’s commentary on the Piṇḍī-krama-sādhana, the Ratnāvalī,18 which, as
we saw, contains this verse as well. Here is Śāntipa’s commentary on the first
part of the verse (abhāve bhāvanābhāvo, dngos po med pas sgom pa med) in the
literal level of interpretation, which seems to have survived only in its Tibetan
translation.19

brtan pa dang g.yo ba’i dngos po thams cad med na sgom20 pa ni med de/
bsgom par bya ba med pa’i phyir ro /

This seems to be a good translation of the Sanskrit of Candrakīrti’s

Pradīpoddyotana:21

sthira-cala-sarva-padārthānām abhāve sati bhāvanāyā abhāvaḥ bhāvyābhāvāt.

Śāntipa’s explanation can be rendered into English as: “When there are not any
animate and inanimate things, there is no meditation [causing to be], because
there is nothing to meditate upon [to cause to be].”
94 tibetan ritual

The Tibetan translation of the Pradīpoddyotana itself is somewhat

different:22

brtan pa dang g.yo ba’i dngos po thams cad kyi ngo bo nyid ni med pa yin
na ni sgom pa med ste bsgom par bya ba med pa’i phyir ro /

This may be translated as: “When ‘there is no’ essence to all the animate and
inanimate ‘things,’ ‘there is no meditation,’ because there is nothing to medi-
tate upon.”
In the Sanskrit there is no equivalent to the word “essence” (ngo bo nyid)
found in the Tibetan. In terms of the “view,” the difference between these two
Tibetan translations is considerable. We can conclude then that the Tibetan
translation of the Pradīpoddyotana is also a transition toward a more standard
Mādhyamika view. Still, it is not clear when this philosophical shift took place.
According to its colophon in the Bstan, ‘gyur, the Pradīpoddyotana was trans-
lated and revised in the eleventh century.

Tibetan Commentaries

There was a short commentary on the Guhyasāmaja Tantra written by Chag

Lotsāwa Chöjé Pel (Chag lo tsā ba Chos rje dpal), who lived in the thirteenth
century,23 but at present it is unavailable to me. The version that Butön Rinchen
Drub (Bu ston Rin chen grub, 1290–1364) comments upon is very similar to
that of the Drönsel (Sgron gsal), the Tibetan translation of the Pradīpoddyotana.24
Butön more or less reproduces the fourfold meditation of the Pradīpoddyotana
without commenting on it. Apparently for Butön, the question as to which
school (Yogācāra or Mādhyamika) this meditation belongs was not an issue.
Furthermore, in his explanation of another step in the creation stage of the
Guhyasamāja,25 Butön explicitly advocates Mind Only: “this is so that you will
understand all [phenomena] as Mind Only (sems tsam).”
Butön was one of the last commentators on the Guhyasamāja Tantra who
actually knew Sanskrit, and who could see that the meaning of our verse in its
Tibetan rendering was different from the meaning of the Sanskrit. He could
also see that, in its most important commentary, the Praīpoddyotana in its
Tibetan translation, the meaning of our verse was further altered, at least since
the fourteenth century, if not before. But Butön does not comment on this.
Among the Gelugpas, the Ārya School of the Guhyasamāja is considered
to hold the philosophical positions of the Mādhyamika School, and the empti-
ness meditated upon in practices of the “Path of Mantra” (i.e., in the Tantra) is
 the convergence of theoretical and practical concerns 95

considered no different from the emptiness of the Mādhyamika School. As we

would expect, the portion of the commentary of Tsongkhapa (1357–1419) that
explains our verse26 accords with his views on Mādhyamika and emptiness.
In Tsongkhapa’s interpretation, “a thing” must be glossed as “an inherently
existing thing”; “no thing” therefore refers to “absence of own essence,” and
“meditation” (sgom pa) is meditation on suchness.
Furthermore, Tsongkhapa does not enter into the subject of the four-
fold meditation. For him, the explanation of the Pradīpoddyotana here is, as
Candrakīrti names it, an explanation by means of the tantric hermeneutical
method called “the four ways” (tshul bzhi). In the section on the creation stage
in his commentary on the Namzhag Rimpa (Rnam gzhag rim pa),27 Tsongkhapa
says that from among the “four ways” in which the Pradīpoddyotana explains
our verse, it is the literal and common levels of interpretations which are rel-
evant to the creation stage. The common level of interpretation is common to
both the creation and completion stages. But the hidden and ultimate levels
pertain to practices with the consort, to the subtle body, and to the complet-
ing stage alone. Hence, in his discussion of the creation stage, Tsongkhapa
discusses only the first two levels of interpretations. Thus, in the context of the
creation stage, his explanations do not go into the fourfold meditation and the
problems that this poses for Mādhyamika.
Though Tsongkhapa did not concern himself with the fourfold medita-
tion, he did address the question of the nature of the external world. Tsong-
khapa28 explains the meaning of “external appearance” or “external aspect”
(bāhyākāra, phyi rol gyi rnam pa) in the Pradīpoddyotana29 by specifying that
this refers to external objects which “exist by their own essence (rang gi ngo
bo nyid kyis grub pa),” and by adding that things have no existence “apart
from being merely imputed by the mind (sems kyis btags pa tsam las).” Simi-
larly, Tsongkhapa30 glosses the phrase “created by the mind” (cittamaya) or
“of the nature of the mind” (sems kyi rang bzhin) in the Pradīpoddyotana31
with “of the nature of being merely imputed by the mind (sems kyis btags
pa tsam gyi rang bzhin).”32 Thus, rather than taking the explanation of the
Pradīpoddyotana at its (Yogācāra) face value, Tsongkhapa gives it a Prāsaṇgika
Mādhyamika spin.
In his commentary on difficult points in the Pradīpoddyotana, entitled the
Tachö Rinchen Nyugu (Mtha’ gcod rin chen myu gu),33 Tsongkhapa elaborates on
the subject of external objects and Mind Only:

When [the Pradīpoddyotana] explains [the verse that] begins with

dngos po med pa on the common level of interpretation, there appears
something like a refutation of external objects and an establishment
96 tibetan ritual

[of them] as mind-only; and there are similar occurrences also in other
cases. It seems that [some people], unable to examine this very thor-
oughly, did not understand that the position of the Noble Father [Ārya
Nāgārjuna] and his Spiritual Sons [Candrakīrti and so on] in general,
and the position of the commentator [Candrakīrti] in particular, which
accept external objects as conventional designations. Therefore, they
say that the system of the Pradīpoddyotana does not accept external
objects. However, since I already extensively explained elsewhere why
this is unacceptable and how to eradicate the extreme views of eternal-
ism and nihilism, I do not elaborate here.

It seems that the purpose of this passage is to explain how “some people”
might come to the conclusion that the Pradīpoddyotana refutes external objects
and maintains that they are “mind-only.” Butön was an important teacher in
the lineage that came down to Tsongkhapa, and it seems that Tsongkhapa had
much reverence for Butön, although he did not always agree with him.34 For
Tsongkhapa, there is a crucial difference between holding that external objects
exist as conventional designations, and holding that external objects do not exist
at all. Tsongkhapa does not agree that the author of the Pradīpoddyotana rejects
external objects. According to Tsongkhapa, the Ārya school of the Guhyasamāja
maintains that external objects exist as conventional designations, and this
causes him to offer an alternative gloss to the line of the Drönsel that refers to
external objects—namely that while existing externally, inherently they do not
exist, but are mere mental imputations.
In commenting on our verse, Tsongkhapa’s disciple Khedrubjé (Mkhas
grub rje, 1385–1438) follows his teacher. In the context in which Butön
explains:35 “This is so that you will understand all [phenomena] as Mind Only,
and realize the two truths as indivisible,” Khedrubjé refers to this very passage,
without naming names, by saying:36

Some lamas (bla ma kha cig) say that this is so that you will understand
all [phenomena] as mind-only, and realize the two truths as indivisible.
They do not understand that the author of the Pradīpoddyotana accepts
external things as conventional designations, and that this is also the
intention of Ārya Nāgārjuna. The world and its inhabitants . . . are only
conventional truth. . . . Hence this [statement] is just pointless.

For Tsongkhapa and Khedrubjé then, there is no doubt that Candrakīrti, the
author of the Pradīpoddyotana, as well as Nāgārjuna, the author of the Piṇḍī-
krama-sādhana, do not accept the Mind-Only School, but hold the view of the
Prāsaṇgika Mādhyamika School.
 the convergence of theoretical and practical concerns 97

Conclusions

We have analyzed the recitation of a verse, or rather “mantra,” as an important

ritual event during the creation stage of the Guhyasamāja. As we saw, in his
Piṇḍī-krama-sādhana Nāgārjuna calls this recitation of the mantra a “ritual” or
“ritual method” (vidhi, cho ga). While rituals may remain almost unchanged,
their interpretations are often adjusted in accordance with current theories.
Indeed, the meaning of the Sanskrit mantra is fluid and enigmatic—the more
one reflects on it, the more implications one finds—and it is precisely this flu-
idity that serves as the basis for reflections during the meditation and allows
for different interpretations throughout history. Still, this mantra is somewhat
different from other mantras recited during this tantric practice, insofar as it
has overt philosophical content—that is, since it resembles verses from Bud-
dhist philosophical treatises.
Our focus was the import given to this liminal point of the practice, just
after the practitioners visualize away (mi dmigs) their ordinary identity and the
ordinary appearances of themselves and their world, and just before they cre-
ate in their mind the maṇḍala with the deities of their enlightened realm. On
one level, this ritual may simply be taken as the erasure of one’s own ordinary
existence by transforming it into utter nothingness so that a new reality can
arise. However, in a Buddhist philosophical context, this stage is understood
as dissolution into emptiness. While in the Mūla-madhyamaka-kārikā (chapter
24) and in the Vigrahavyāvartanī-kārikā (v. 70),37 Nāgārjuna does emphasize
that emptiness is that which makes change possible, in Buddhist Tantric litera-
ture on the creation stage, such as the Piṇḍī-krama-sādhana, emptiness is more
explicitly understood as the ground or potential for all phenomena.
The commentators saw it as their task to explain the mantra, and since it
lends itself to a number of interpretations, various commentators stepped up
to the challenge, and most of them explained it by employing the theoretical
frameworks they most favored.38 The Pradīpoddyotana applies first Nāgārjuna’s
tetralemma, but then it applies the fourfold meditation common in Yogācāra
treatises. The meaning Candrakīrti, the author of the Pradīpoddyotana, saw in
our verse was modified twice. The first philosophical reorientation toward a so-
called authentic Mādhyamika or so-called authentic Prāsaṇgika Mādhyamika
was written into the Tibetan translation of the Pradīpoddyotana. Unlike its
Sanskrit version (and unlike the Tibetan translation of Śāntipa’s Ratnāvalī, the
Rin chen phreng ba), the Tibetan translation does not speak about the absence
of things, but rather about the absence of their essence. Perhaps, when ear-
lier versions of the translations of the Tengyur texts and some of the former
98 tibetan ritual

commentaries on the Pradīpoddyotana become available, we will be able to

determine with more precision when this modification occurred. The second
transformation of the meaning of our verse took place in Tibetan composi-
tions, when especially among the Gelugpa, typical Yogācāra practices and what
came to be called Mādhyamika-Yogācāra fell from favor. Then, together with
all the other authors of the Ārya School of the Guhyasamāja, Candrakīrti, the
author of the Pradīpoddyotana, came to be identified with “orthodox” Prāsaṇgika
Madhyamaka.

notes
This research was supported by The Israel Science Foundation (grant no. 874/02–1).
1. In the concentration called “the vajra-mode of awakening into manifestation of
all Tathāgatas” (sarva-tathāgatābhisaṃbodhi-naya-vajra, de bzhin gshegs pa thams cad kyi
mngon par rdzogs par byang chub pa’i tshul rdo rje); for references, see note 2.
2. This reading is found in the editions of Francesca Fremantle, “A Critical Study
of the Guhyasamāja-tantra: (Ph.D. diss., London: School of Oriental and African
Studies, 1971), 190; Yukei Matsunaga, ed., The Guhyasamāja Tantra: A New Critical
Edition (Osaka: Toho Shuppan, 1978), 9; Benoytosh Bhattacharyya, ed., Guhyasamāja
Tantra or Tathāgataguhyaka (Baroda: Oriental Institute, 1931), 11; S. Bagchi, ed.,
Guhyasamāja Tantra or Tathāgataguhyaka (Darbhanga: The Mithila Institute, 1965), 8.
Fremantle notes a variant reading of abhāvi for abhāve in her manuscripts C and P and
comments that a substitution of ‘i’ for ‘e’ occurs several times; Matsunaga notes the
same variant reading in his manuscripts A and T5. The Pradīpoddyotana [Chintaharan
Chakravarti, ed., Guhya-samāja-tantra-Pradīpoddyotana-ṭīkā-ṣaṭ-koṭī-vyākhyā (Patna:
Kashi Prasad Jayaswal Research Institute, 1984), 31] explains the literal meaning with
a locative absolute: abhāve sati, and most commentaries take the abhāve in the begin-
ning of our verse to mean abhāve sati. In his edition of the Piṇḍī-krama-sādhana, which
cites our verse, Louis de La Vallée Poussin [Études et textes tantriques: Pañcakrama
(Gand: H. Engelcke, 1896), 2] has abhāvabhāvanā bhāvo for abhāve bhāvanābhāvo.
According to David L. Snellgove, [Hevajra Tantra: A Critical Study (London: Oxford
University Press, 1959), 77] the Sekoddeśaṭīkā also has this reading. Giuseppe Tucci
[“Some Glosses upon the Guhyasamāja,” Mélanges Chinois et Bouddhiques, no. 3
(1934–1935): 352] “corrects” the Sanskrit text in light of its Tibetan translation, by
changing abhāve to abhāvena, although he admits that this makes the first line
hypermetric.
3. As we shall see, the meaning of this verse is purposely enigmatic, and indeed it was
interpreted in various ways. For some translations of this verse, see Benoytosh Bhattacharyya,
Guhyasamāja Tantra, xx; Tucci, “Some Glosses,” 353–53; Snellgrove, Hevajra Tantra, part 1,
77; Fremantle, “A Critical Study,” 34 and 143–4, n.1; Pio Filippani-Ronconi, “La formulazi-
one liturgica della dottrina del Bodhicitta nel 2 Capitolo de Guhyasamājatantra,” Annali
(Istituto Universitario Orientale di Napoli) vol. 32, no. 2, n.s. XXII (1972): 190; Kenneth
Eastman, “Mahāyoga Texts at Tun-huang” (Master’s thesis, Stanford University, 1983),
 the convergence of theoretical and practical concerns 99

18–19; Raniero Gnoli, “Guhyasamājatantra (chapters 1, 2, & 5),” Testi Buddhisti (Turin:
Unione Tipografico-editrice Torinese, 1983), 628; Peter Gäng, Das Tantra der Verborgenen
Vereinigung: Guhyasamāja-Tantra (München: Eugen Diederichs Verlag, 1988), 123. I would
like to thank Jake Dalton for providing me with a copy of Eastman’s Thesis. Here is just one
possible translation: “When there are no [existing] things, there is no meditation [causing
to be]. Meditation indeed is no meditation. Thus, a thing would be no thing. No meditation
is to be perceived [or, there is no object to the meditation].” As we shall see, there are vari-
ous other alternative translations.
4. Piṇḍīkrama-sādhana (Piṇḍīkṛta-sādhana); the Sanskrit was edited by La Vallée
Poussin, Pañcakrama, 1–14; also, Ram Shankar Tripathi, Piṇḍīkrama and Pañcakrama of
Ācārya Nāgārjuna (Sarnath: Central Institute of Higher Tibetan Studies, 2001), 1–32. For
the Tibetan translation, see Sgrub pa’i thabs mdor byas pa, Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no.
1796, Rgyud ngi, folios 1b–11a; Peking Bstan ‘gyur, Ōtani 2661, vol. 61,
268.1.1–273.1.6.
5. La Vallée Poussin, Pañcakrama, v. 16cd; Tripathi, Piṇḍīkrama and Pañcakrama,
v. 15cd; Sde dge, Sgrub pa’i thabs, folio 2b3–4; Peking, Sgrub pa’i thabs, 269.3.2. While
La Vallée Poussin (v. 16d) and Tripathi (v. 15d) have bhavatrayam, all versions of the
Bstan ‘gyur available to me have dngos po rnams/ srid gsum. For niḥsvabhāva, the Bstan
‘gyur has dngos po med pa.
6. La Vallée Poussin, Pañcakrama, v. 18; Tripathi, Piṇḍīkrama and Pañcakrama,
v. 17; Sde dge, Sgrub pa’i thabs, folio 2b4–5; Peking, Sgrub pa’i thabs, 269.3.3–4.
7. Nāgabuddhi (Klu’i blo), Samāja-sādhana-vyavasthālī (‘Dus pa’i sgrub pa’i thabs
rnam par gzhag pa’i rim pa), Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 1809, Rgyud ngi, folio 121b4–5;
Peking Bstan ‘gyur, Ōtani 2674, vol. 62, 7.4.4–6.
8. De bzhin gshegs pa thams cad kyi sku gsung thugs kyi gsang chen gsang ba ‘dus pa
zhes bya ba brtag pa’i rgyal po chen po. The Tantra is found in a number of recensions:
Dunhuang, IOL (India Office Library) Tib J 481 and IOL Tib. J 438; The Rnying ma rgyud
‘bum (Thimbu: Dingo Khyentse Rimpoche, 1973), vol. 17, folios 1b1–314a4; Sde dge
Bka’ ‘gyur, Toh. no. 442, Rgyud ‘bum ca, folios 90a–148a (vol. 81, 181–295); Peking
Bka’ ‘gyur, Ōtani 81, vol. 65, 174.3.5–203.2.1; Stog Palace, vol. 96, 2–190; also in Dpal
gsang ba ‘dus pa’i rtsa rgyud ‘grel pa bzhi sbrags dang bcas pa (Lhasa: Zhol Printing House,
made from block-prints carved in 1890). The reading of the verse given here is found in
both the Stog Palace edition (vol. 96, 17.5–6) and the Zhol edition of the ‘Grel pa bzhi
sgrags (folio 6a2). The most significant variant reading is found in the Sde dge edition
(vol. 81, 187.7–188.1) and the Peking (vol. 65: 176.3.2–3) which have bsgom pa bsgom pa
ma yin nyid for bsgom par bya ba bsgom pa min in the second line (pāda); and in the
Dunhuang (IOL Tib. J 438, folio 8b4) which has bsgom pa’i dngos for sgom pa med, at the
end of the first pāda. In the Hevajra Tantra (I.viii.44; Snellgrove, 30–31): bhāvanā naiva
bhāvanā is similarly translated as sgom pa nyid ni sgom pa min. As for other variant read-
ings in the first pāda, the Sde dge and the Peking have la and the Dunhuang has par for
pas; the Rnying ma rgyud ‘bum edition (vol. 17, 15.3) has bsgom pa med for sgom pa med.
In the second pāda, the Rnying ma rgyud ‘bum has sgom pa min for bsgom pa min. In the
third pāda, the Sde dge and the Peking have de for pas. And in the fourth pāda, Dunhuang
and the Peking have bsgom for sgom and the Dunhuang has do zhes for pa’o. The Sgron
gsal (Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 1785, Rgyud ha, vol. 30, 47.2; Peking Bstan ‘gyur,
100 tibetan ritual

Ōtani 2650, vol. 60, 35.3.4; The Golden Bstan ‘byur, vol. 30, 32a5–6) has similar read-
ings to those of the Stog Palace and the Zhol editions; the variants are: sgom pa med at
the end of the first pāda, and bsgom par bya ba bsgom pa min in the second pāda. The
Mdor byas sgrub thabs (Sde dge, folio 2b4 and Peking, 269.3.3) has in the first pāda: dngos
po med la bsgom pa’i dngos. In his commentary on the Mdor byas sgrub thabs, the Rin chen
phreng ba (Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 1826, Rgyud ci, vol. 36, 50.1), Śāntipa has dngos
po med pas sgom pa med, as do the Zhol and the Stog Palace in the Root Tantra, and not
bsgom pa’i dngos. Bu ston Rin chen grub [Dpal gsang ba ‘dus pa’i sgrub thabs mdor byas kyi
rgya cher bshad pa bskyed rim gsal byed (Mdor byas ‘grel chen), The Collected Works of
Bu-Ston (New Delhi: International Academy of Indian Culture, 1967), 708.6–710.3]
rejects the reading bsgom pa’i dngos, because it lacks a negative particle, while Śāntipa’s
commentary explains it with a negation.
9. As Fremantle, “A Critical Study,” 143 points out, the Tibetan here is a transla-
tion of bhāvya and not bhāvanā.
10. The literal (akṣarārtha, tshig gi don or yi ge’i don), the common (samastāṅga,
spyi’i don), the hidden (garbhin, sbas pa) and the ultimate (kolika, mthar thug pa) levels of
interpretations. This passage was also translated from Tibetan into Italian in Filippani-
Ronconi. “La formulazione,” 194–95. Unfortunately, until I can see the Sanskrit manu-
script itself, everything I can say is rather tentative, since I must rely on Chakravarti’s
edition, Guhya-samāja-tantra-ṭīkā, 31–32.
11. Chakravarti, Guhya-samāja-tantra-ṭīkā, 31; the Sgron gsal (Sde dge, 47.2–3;
Peking, 35.3.3–5; The Golden Bstan ‘gyur, 32a5–32b1).
12. In the usual tshul bzhi, the common level of interpretation is common to both
creation or generation stage (bskyed rim) and completion stage (rdzogs rim), both Sūtra
and Tantra, and so on; the hidden level often refers to practices with the consort, the
subtle body, and so on; and the ultimate level of interpretation applies to the rdzogs rim
alone.
13. See Vasubandhu’s Triṃśikā (vv. 28–29) and Trisvabhāvanirdeśa (vv. 36–37); also
Madhyāntavibhāga (ch. 1, v. 6), Mahāyāna-sūtrālaṃkāra (ch. 6, v. 8 and ch. 14, vv. 23–28),
and Dharmadharmatāvibhāga; see Klaus-Dieter Mathes, Unterscheidung der Gegebenheiten
von ihrem wahren Wesen [Dharmadharmatāvibhāga] (Swisttal-Odendorf: Indica et
Tibetica, 1996), 102–103, 64, 110, 139. Ronald Davidson [“Buddhist Systems of
Transformation: Āśraya-parivṛtti / -parāvṛtti among the Yogācāra” (Ph.D. diss.,
University of California, Berkeley), 1985, 295–97], David Jackson [The Entrance Gate for
the Wise [section III] (Vienna: Arbeitskreis für Tibetische und Buddhistische Studien,
Universität Wien, 1987), 348–51 and notes thereon] and Christian Lindtner [“Cittamātra
in Indian Mahāyāna until Kamalaśīla,”Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde Südasiens, 41
(1997): 159–206] have pointed to still other parallels. This fourfold meditation appears
also in the works of Śāntarakṣita and Kamalaśīla as well as Śāntipa (Ratnākaraśānti) and
therefore came to be associated with what was later called the Yogācāra-Mādhyamika.
Chizuko Yoshimizu [“The Theoretical Basis of the bskyed rim as Reflected in the bskyed
rim Practice of the Ārya School,” Report of the Japanese Association for Tibetan Studies, 33
(1987): 25–28] who edited and translated Bu ston’s commentary on our verse as it
appears in Nāgārjuna’s Piṇḍīkrama-sādhana (Bu ston’s Mdor byas ‘grel chen; see below),
also consulted the texts of the Pradīpoddyotana and the Ratnāvalī, and commented (27):
 the convergence of theoretical and practical concerns 101

“[T]he Ārya school employed Yogācāra-Mādhyamika theory virtually from its starting
point.” Her conclusion on this point is (28): “Most Tantric authors including Nāgārjuna
seem to lack any concrete understanding of Mahāyāna philosophies.” Since Katsumi
Mimaki [“The Blo gsal grub mtha’ and the Mādhyamika Classification in Tibetan Grub
mtha’ Literature,” in Contributions on Tibetan and Buddhist Religion and Philosophy, ed.
Ernst Steinkellner, 2 vols. (Vienna: Arbeitskreis für Tibetische und Buddhistische
Studien Universität Wien, 1982), 2: 163] maintains: “We know today that the
terms indicating the sub-schools of the Mādhyamika, such as the . . . Yogācāra-
Mādhyamika, . . . have been invented by Tibetan authors, and do not appear in Indian
texts,” I use here the term Yogācāra and not Yogācāra-Mādhyamika. My conclusion are
different from those of yoshimizu on this point.
14. Chakravarti, Guhya-samāja-tantra-ṭīkā, 31–32.
15. The stage of union (yuganaddha-krama, zung ‘jug gi rim pa) of the completion
stage (rdzogs rim) is the fifth of the five stages in Nāgārjuna’s text, the Five Stages (Pañca-
krama).
16. See, for example, Gadjin M. Nagao, “What Remains in Śūnyatā: A Yogācāra
Interpretation of Emptiness,” in Mahāyāna Buddhist Meditation, ed. M. Kiyota (Honolulu,
HI: University of Hawaii Press, 1978), 66–82, and David Malcolm Eckel, To See the
Buddha (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1992), 69–71.
17. The Sgron gsal, Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 1785, Rgyud ha, vol. 30, 47.2–
48.4; Peking Bstan ‘gyur, Ōtani 2650, vol. 60, 35.3.3–4.7; The Golden Bstan ‘gyur, vol.
30, 32a5–33a5; translated by Śraddhākaravarman, Rin chen bzang po, Śrījñānākara and
‘Gos Lhas btsas and revised by Nag po and ‘Gos Lhas btsas.
18. Piṇḍī-kṛta-sādhana-vṛtti-ratnāvalī (Mdor bsdus pa’i sgrub thabs kyi ‘grel pa rin chen
phreng ba = Rin chen phreng ba), Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 1826, Rgyud ci, vol. 36:
50.1–51.3; translated into Tibetan by Karmavajra. In his commentary on the Guhyasamāja
Tantra entitled Kusumāñjali (Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 1851, Rgyud ti, 463.5–465.4)
Śāntipa has quite a different discussion of this verse.
19. Śāntipa, Rin chen phreng ba (Ratnāvalī), Sde dge ed., 50.1–2.
20. Reading sgom pa for som pa in the Sde dge edition.
21. Chakravarti, Guhya-samāja-tantra-ṭīkā, 31.
22. Candrakīrti, Sgron gsal (Pradīpoddyotana), Sde dge ed., 47.2; Peking ed., 35.3.3–4;
The Golden Bstan ‘gyur ed., 32a5–6.
23. It is entitled Gsang ‘dus sgron gsal gyi bsdus don [Tibetan Buddhist Resource
Center, source code W11238].
24. Bu ston wrote commentaries on both the Pradīpoddyotana [the Dpal gsang ba
‘dus pa’i ṭīkkā sgron ma rab tu gsal ba = Sgron gsal bshad sbyar, The Collected Works of
Bu-ston (New Delhi: International Academy of Indian Culture, 1967), vol. 9, 141–682]
and on the Piṇḍī-krama-sādhana [the Mdor byas ‘grel chen, The Collected Works of Bu-ston
(New Delhi: International Academy of Indian Culture, 1967), vol. 9, 683–979], but he
comments on our verse only in the latter work (708.6–710.3). In this latter commentary,
Bu ston often consults Śāntipa’s commentary on the Piṇḍī-krama-sādhana, the Ratnāvalī.
However, in writing about our verse, Bu ston’s text corresponds to the Tibetan version,
not of the Ratnāvalī, but of the Pradīpoddyotana (Sgron gsal). Like the Sgron gsal (Sde dge
ed., 47.2), Bu ston (708.6–7) says, “there is no essence to all the animate and inanimate
102 tibetan ritual

things,” and not “there are no animate and inanimate things,” as in the Sanskrit edition
(Chakravarti, Guhya-samāja-tantra-ṭīkā, 31) and in Śāntipa’s Rin chen phreng ba (Sde dge
ed., 50.1–2). And also parallel to the Sgron gsal (Sde dge ed., 47.7), in the hidden level of
interpretation, Bu ston (709.5) has dngos po med pa and not just med pa, as in the Rin
chen phreng ba (Sde dge ed., 50.6). There are only minor differences between his expla-
nation and the explanation of the Sgron gsal. For an English translation of Bu ston com-
mentary here, see Yoshimizu, “The Theoretical Basis of the bskyed rim,” 25–27.
25. The dissolution into the moon in Mdor byas ‘grel chen, 749.5–6.
26. Rgyud thams cad kyi rgyal po dpal gsang ba ‘dus pa’i rgya cher bshad pa sgron me
gsal ba’i tshig don ji bzhin ‘byed pa’i mchan gyi yang ‘grel, in The Collected Works (Gsung
‘bum) of Rje Tsong-kha-pa Blo-bzang-grags-pa (New Delhi: Ngawang Gelek Demo, 1977),
vol. 6: 180.2–186.6. Also in Dpal gsang ba ‘dus pa’i rtsa rgyud ‘grel pa bzhi sbrags dang bcas
pa (Lhasa: Zhol Printing House, made from block-prints carved in 1890), 55b6–57b6.
27. Rnam gzhag rim pa’i rnam bshad dpal gsang ba ‘dus pa’i gnad kyi don gsal ba, The
Collected Works (Gsung ‘bum) of Rje Tsong-kha-pa Blo-bzang-grags-pa, 27 vols. (New Delhi:
Ngawang Gelek Demo, 1975–79) vol. 9: 296.2.
28. Tsong kha pa, Sgron gsal mchan, New Delhi edition, 182.3–4; Zhol edition, 56b2.
29. Chakravarti, Guhya-samāja-tantra-ṭīkā, 31; Sde dge ed., 47.5.
30. Tsong kha pa, Sgron gsal mchan, New Delhi edition, 182.6; Zhol edition, 56b3.
31. Chakravarti, Guhya-samāja-tantra-ṭīkā, 31; Sde dge ed., 47.6.
32. The term “mind-only” (cittamātra, sems tsam) itself appears only in the hidden
level of interpretation, which Tsong kha pa explains in terms of the subtle body, and not
of the fourfold meditation (New Delhi, 183.4; Zhol, 56b6).
33. Rgyud kyi rgyal po dpal gsang ba ‘dus pa’i rgya cher bshad pa sgron ma gsal ba’i dka’
gnas kyi mtha’ gcod rin chen myu gu, The Collected Works (Gsung ‘bum) of Rje Tsong-kha-pa
Blo-bzang-grags-pa (New Delhi: Ngawang Gelek Demo, 1977), vol. 8, 207.6–208.2.
34. See Yael Bentor, “Identifying the Unnamed Opponents of Tsong-kha-pa and
Mkhas-grub-rje Concerning the Transformation of Ordinary Birth, Death and the
Intermediate State into the Three Bodies,” in Tibetan Buddhist Literature and Praxis:
Studies in Its Formative Period 900–1400, ed. Ronald M. Davidson and Christian
K. Wedemeyer (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 185–200.
35. Bu ston, Mdor byas ‘grel chen, 749.5–6.
36. Mkhas grub rje Dge legs dpal bzang po, Rgyud thams cad kyi rgyal po dpal gsang
ba ‘dus pa’i bskyed rim dngos grub rgya mtsho, The Collected Works (Gsung ‘bum) of the Lord
Mkhas-grub Rje Dge-legs-dpal-bzang-po (New Delhi: Gurudeva, 1982), vol. 7, 209.2–4.
37. I would like to thank José Cabezón for pointing this out to me.
38. While in Nāgārjuna’s sādhana, the Piṇḍī-krama-sādhana, our verse is recited
during meditation on emptiness, in the Guhyasamāja Tantra, this verse is spoken as an
explanation of the arising of the mind for enlightenment (bodhicitta). The commentar-
ies discuss both of these contexts.
5
Chilu (‘Chi bslu)
Rituals for “Deceiving Death”

irmgard mengele

To counteract the “degeneration” of their life-force, and to remove

adverse conditions (rkyen sel) that befall them, Tibetans seek the help of
a variety of religious virtuosos. These specialists have at their disposal a
wide array of sophisticated rituals serving one or more of the following
purposes: (1) protection, (2) purification of negative deeds, (3) increase
of merit, (4) elimination of obstacles, (5) fulfillment of wishes, (6) long
life or prolonging of the life span, (7) health and (8) enhancement of
the healing power of medicine. Astrological calculations to determine
propitious stellar configurations also play a role in the elimination of
obstacles, allowing one to carefully choose the day and time to set out
on a journey, to marry, to start a new business, and so forth. Tibetans
believe that every twelfth year in one’s life, when the animal sign of
one’s birth year reoccurs, is an obstacle-year (lo keg). One is advised to
avoid any risky undertakings during that year, and before the beginning
of the year one visits a lama who may advise one to go on a pilgrimage,
or to have certain rituals—like the tsetar (tshe thar) or “liberation of the
lives of animals”1—performed.
But what if, in spite of all precautions, a person faces the threat
of untimely death? Are there any measures that can be taken to coun-
teract such a danger? Are there factors, over and above the obvious
physical ones, that lead to an untimely death? Among the religious
responses to these questions, the ones we find in the Tibetan Buddhist
tradition are complex and sophisticated. The Tibetan texts differenti-
ate between a wide range of causes and immediate conditions (‘phral
104 tibetan ritual

rkyen) leading to death, and offer corresponding rituals as a way of responding

to these adverse conditions. These rituals include a wide array of methods for
averting death—methods that involve meditation, visualization, recitation of
mantras, and offerings. In this chapter I focus on chilu (‘chi bslu) or “death-
deceiving” rites, a unique type of ritual performed for a person facing untimely
death. The aim of the ritual is to reverse impending death, and to eventually
restore health.

Terminology and History

Tibetan–English dictionaries render the Tibetan term chiwa luwa (‘chi ba bslu
ba) either as “deceiving/cheating death” or, alternatively, as “ransoming from
death.”2 These same Tibetan words are used to translate the Sanskrit mr·tyu
vañcana. The Sanskrit word vañcana, however, only has the “deceiving/cheat-
ing” connotation and not the “ransoming” one.3 The oldest chilu texts are found
in the Tengyur, indicating their Indian origin.4 It is possible to date two of the
ten available Tengyur texts.5 The first, a ritual text called simply Deceiving Death
(‘Chi ba bslu ba), was authored by Tathāgatarakṣita.6 He worked on the transla-
tion of this text with the Tibetan Rinchen Drakpa (Rin chen grags pa), whose
dates are known; he lived from 1040–1112. Consequently, Tathāgatarakṣita
authored the ‘Chi ba bslu ba at the end of the eleventh, or at the beginning of
the twelfth century. In the case of the second text, the Instructions on Deceiving
Death (‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag), only the dating of the translation from San-
skrit into Tibetan is possible. In the colophon to his later revision of this trans-
lation, Situ Penchen (Si tu Paṇ chen) mentions Atiśa (b. 972/982) and Rinchen
Zangpo (Rin chen bzang po, 958–1055) as the earlier translators.7 Given their
dates, we know that the translation of the second text dates to the tenth/elev-
enth century.
Apart from chilu texts found in the Tengyur, Namkhai Norbu argues that
ransom rites were already part of the indigenous Tibetan Bön religion before
the first dissemination of Buddhism in Tibet around the seventh century C.E.8
According to him, lü (glud) is a general Tibetan term for Bön ransom rites, a
category that includes three different types of ransom rituals: (1) those that exor-
cise the danger of death, disease, and evil influences, called dö (mdos); (2) those
that provide a gift to free oneself of disturbances, called yé (yas); and (3) those
during which the substitute of a person is offered to a malevolent spirit, called
lü (glud). The methods he describes for all three types of lü rites are very similar
to what is found in chilu rituals.9 I have not been able to find any Indian prece-
dents for yé and lü (glud), but was able to locate one offering ritual in the Peking
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 105

edition of the Tengyur with the word dö in its title, the Ritual Cake Yantra (Dö)
of the Crow-Headed Protector (Mgon po bya rog gdong gi gtor mdo, Skt. Nāthakā[kā]
syabaliyantra), written by Kṛṣṇa Nāgārjuna (Klu sgrub nag po). Lacking any
biographical information about the author, it is impossible to date this text at
present, but its existence in the Tengyur is proof enough of its Indian origin.
In a footnote, Namkhai Norbu mentions that some Western scholars have rec-
ognized in the term dö, only the physical thread cross—a common part of such
rites—but he claims that the term in fact denotes the broad category of rituals
in which these devices are used as magical instruments.10 In the Tengyur text
mentioned earlier, the term dö is used to translate the Sanskrit yantra (literally,
“instrument” or “support”). In the case of the Nāthakākāsyabaliyantra, when
Buddhism entered Tibet, needing to find a Tibetan equivalent for the Sanskrit
yantra, Tibetans most probably chose dö from the repertoire of their pre-Bud-
dhist ritual terminology.
A comparison of mr·tyu vañcana texts in the Tengyur with Tibetan chilu
rituals reveals obvious differences. Most striking, the texts in the Tengyur do
not mention an effigy or any other substitute for the sick person’s body, usually
offered to harmful spirits as the core of Tibetan chilu rituals. Most mr·tyuvañcana
texts in the Tengyur are short versions of Vāgīśvarakīrti’s Mr·tyuvañcanopadeśa,
which is a comprehensive summary of the activities that will prolong the life
span and save one from untimely death. In general, Vāgīśvarakīrti states that
death deception for “outer [signs of death] is done through bodily and verbal
activities. For inner [signs it is accomplished] through meditative concentra-
tion.” According to his system, jewels, mantras, and medicine are applied
when there are outer signs of death, and the yogic powers (rnal ‘byor gyi nus pa)
are resorted to when there are inner signs.
Vāgīśvarakīrti also considers faith to be the prerequisite for practicing
death deception. “Death deception with diligence can be practiced by believers.
Therefore, have steadfast faith! Otherwise the effort will be pointless.”11 The
first type of chilu is prolonging life through virtuous actions (bsod nams las ni
tshe ‘phel zhing/ de ‘phel bas ni ‘chi ba bslu). The text instructs the adept to refrain
from the ten nonvirtuous actions, to take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma, and
Saṅgha, and to observe the five and eight precepts; in this way “death will be
banished afar.” He gives the following example: “by saving the live of birds, fish,
wild animals, thieves (rkun ma), snakes and so on—everything that is an object
to be killed—though [one’s] life span is short, it will instantly be extended.”12
Other merit-based, life-prolonging methods include: respect for parents, for
older or wiser masters, and for one’s tutelary deity (rang gi ‘dod lha); repairing
damaged stūpas; making tsatsa (tsha tsha, clay statuettes made from molds).
Many more are given. The second chilu method mentioned by Vāgīśvarakīrti
106 tibetan ritual

involves physical contact with jewels. He claims, for example, that there is no
doubt that death will be deceived by touching precious jewels like sapphires.13
Death deception by the power of jewels is followed by the third means: recita-
tion of mantras that range in length from a single letter a to longer mantras
which have to be repeated up to 100,000 times. Tārā mantras recited in front
of a Tārā image—all the while burning the tip of a kuśa grass sprout saturated
in yoghurt and honey, while pointing it to the east and north—is supposed to
even ward off death that is the result of former karma.14 Vāgīśvarakīrti con-
cludes the section by praising mantras with the following verses:

Whatever other phenomena exist in the world,

There is nothing that cannot be achieved by mantras.
For a person striving with true faith,
Mantras are like wish-fulfilling jewels.15

The last chilu method mentioned in the text, that is to be used when there are
outer signs, involves alchemy—the power of medicinal substances—the knowl-
edge of which Vāgīśvarakīrti certainly acquired from Indian medical treatises
studied during his time. To mention just some examples, the text recommends
that at places where hunger predominates, substances from the medicinal letré
(sle tres) tree should be used, either separately, or mixed with other medicine.
This will strengthen the body and will prevent one from having to witness the
gateway to the kingdom of the Lord of Death.16 A yogi who takes the general
combination of the three (medicinal) fruits (aa ru ra, ba ru ra, and skyu ru
ra) or who extracts the essence of the five nectars together with posocha (po so
[cha] ) and bhingarāja (?) will be devoid of wrinkles and white hair. His vajra
body—that is, his transformed human body—will become an excellent body,
and death will be averted even for eons.17
We should recall that when death is revealed through inner signs, it must be
counteracted through mantra repetition and meditative means. Vāgīśvarakīrti
first mentions the recitation of mantras to forestall obstructing forces and ene-
mies. The text lists examples of these mantras, which can also be accompanied
by burnt offerings. The author reassures his reader that “by properly reciting
hundreds of thousands of mantras against obstructing forces and enemies and
by performing ten thousand fire offerings, all obstructing forces will be warded
off.”18 The second practice involves yogis’ meditation on diverse deities, which
secures for them various positive effects, depending on the nature and appear-
ance of the visualized deity. For instance, “by meditating on white Vairocana
with the mudrā of supreme enlightenment (uttarabodhi mudrā), radiating white
light rays, there is no need to ever die in saṃsāra.”19 Likewise, even the mighty
gods Brahma, Viṣṇu, the gods of the Sun and Moon, the wrathful guardians of
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 107

directions, and the gods of the desire realm will be unable to damage a single
hair on the head of a practitioner who contemplates Tārā for six months while
reciting her mantras. The yogi will, in this way, overcome death, but gray hair,
wrinkles, misfortune, disease and poverty will also be eradicated, and the eight
major kinds of fear (the fear of lions etc.) will be dispelled.20 Anticipating a
question about the secret behind rescuing oneself from death by visualizing a
mighty deity, the text gives the example of meditation on the yoga of Heruka.
After having fully transformed (yongs gyur) oneself into Heruka, one visualizes
oneself as a manifestation [holding] a skull-cup, as a skeleton, or else hold-
ing a tantric staff (khaṭvāṅga). “Since it would not be right to kill [a deity as
mighty as Heruka or a person who has become Heruka by transformation],
death becomes impossible for that meditator.”21 Toward the end of his text,
Vāgīśvarakīrti stresses again that these techniques will bring the anticipated
effects solely when practiced with diligence, reinforcing his argument with the
following metaphors. “Even a soft stream can bore through flat stones at some
points when it constantly flows over them. When wood is rubbed, fire arises.
When the soil is dug, water flows. When a person strives, there is nothing he
or she will not [be able to] achieve. All appropriate effort bears fruit. Thus, even
if you know a great number of death deceiving [methods], if you don’t practice
them, you will die in bed stained with excrement.”22
In another text in the Tengyur, that is authored by Tathāgatarakṣita, the
Sanskrit title reads not mr·tyu vañcana but mr·tyuṣṭhāpaka, “causing to stand or
fixing (sthāpaka) the Lord of Death (mr·tyu).” Not only does the Sanskrit title of
this ritual differ from that of the other chilu texts in the Tengyur, so too does its
contents. Visualizing Tārā and reciting her mantras, a wheel with seven spokes
is painted with saffron on birch bark. One recites, “May the sins of [the per-
son] named so and so be eliminated!” and so forth. Tārā mantras and dhāraṇīs
are also written down. The rolled-up birch bark with the wheel drawn on it is
placed in a box made of precious substances, new terracotta, kha sar (?), horn
or wood. The container is wrapped several times with a red thread and covered
with a coating of white silk or cloth. It is then bound (bcings) on a tree near a
temple belonging to a large monk community, or on a tree by a stūpa. The box
has to be worshipped with great offerings on special occasions, and one must
meditate and then recite Tārā mantras, dhāraṇīs, and eulogies.
It becomes apparent from Vāgīśvarakīrti’s and Tathāgatarakṣita’s com-
positions that death-deceiving methods in India neither involved a conversa-
tion between a yogi and death-causing spirits, nor any kind of effigy offered to
these spirits as ransom for the life of a dying person. Effigies and spirits may
have played a role in other types of Indian rituals, but in chilu rites, these two
aspects of the ritual seem to be a Tibetan innovation. Though at present it is
108 tibetan ritual

not possible to say exactly when and where in Tibet the offering of effigies was
first practiced, we do know from reports of missionaries and anthropologists of
the early twentieth century who pursued fieldwork in Tibet that in some parts
of the country there existed a living tradition of human and animal sacrificial
rituals. These may well date back to a pre-Buddhist period.23 Animal sacrifice
exists in certain parts of the Tibetan ethnic world to the present day, even if
it is often condemned by Buddhists and Bönpos alike. The core aim of these
practices was probably, as it is in many cultures, to avert disasters by pleas-
ing spirits through the offering of a living being. Chilu may well represent a
sublimated form of these sacrificial rituals, where the body of a dying person
is ransomed not by offering another living creature in its place, as happens
with sacrifice, but through the offering of a substitute effigy that is supposed
to be superior to any human body. These sacrifices were performed to protect
individuals or a whole community from a wide range of misfortunes, includ-
ing disease, drought, meager harvest, natural disasters, and attacks from evil
spirits. The existence of sacrificial rituals proves that Tibetan culture has always
been familiar with propitiatory sacrifices, but it remains doubtful whether we
can conclude from this that there is a pre-Buddhist Tibetan origin to the chilu
rites, that is, to the specific rituals used to reverse the dying process in a sick
person.

What Types of Rituals Are Chilu Rites?

Both etic and emic classification schemes are useful to understanding the place
of chilu rituals vis-à-vis other rituals. In a now standard work on ritual, Catherine
Bell provides a taxonomy of rituals, distinguishing between six basic catego-
ries: (1) rites of passage, (2) calendrical rites, (3) rites of exchange and commu-
nion, (4) rites of affliction, (5) feasting, fasting, and festivals, and (6) political
rites. In this classification system, death-deceiving rituals would appear to fall
in two categories: “rites of exchange,” defined as a human–divine interaction
by means of religious rituals “in which people make offerings to a god or gods
with the practical and straightforward expectation of receiving something in
return,” and “rites of affliction,” which Bell says seek “to mitigate the influence
of spirits thought to be afflicting human beings with misfortune.”24
A Tibetan indigenous categorization of (at least certain) rituals according
to their function is to be found in the so-called four activities (phrin las rnam
bzhi): (1) pacifying (zhi), (2) increasing (rgyas), (3) overpowering (dbang) and
(4) subjugating (drag). (See chapter 7 by Cuevas in this volume.) Trinlé (phrin
las) refers to the action the deity is requested to perform during the ritual.25 In
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 109

the index to Jamgön Kongtrül’s Rin chen gter mdzod—a huge collection of var-
ied rituals—death-deceiving rituals are grouped under the rubric “increasing/
enriching activities or rites” (rgyas pa’i las), indicating the deity’s role as the one
who increases the life span of the afflicted person.

Chikyen (‘chi rkyen): The Causes of Death

The ritual methods described in this chapter are said to reverse the process
of dying, “deceiving death” and restoring the health of a sick person. But one
should not expect death-deceiving rituals to be a panacea, capable of rescuing
any person from his or her impending death. Rather, the texts warn that there
are circumstances that make such ritual interventions a priori ineffective. The
Tibetan Book Of The Dead, for example, makes a distinction between a natural
condition of death—the natural exhaustion of one’s life span as the result of
growing old—and an unnatural condition that leads to untimely death, further
indicating that it is only “untimely or sudden death [that] may be avoided.” In
the case of “death due to the [natural] exhaustion of the life span,” however,
“there is no way of averting [death] through ‘ritual deception’ and thus . . . one
should make preparations to depart.”26
Another text mentions a different set of three conditions leading to death
and offers a remedy for each of them. (1) Exhaustion of life should be counter-
acted by a long-life ritual; (2) exhaustion of karma should be remedied by the
recitation of a ransom for life; and (3) persons whose merit is exhausted should
be cured by accumulating new merit through offerings.27
When I asked Gehlek Rinpoché about the significance of chilu rituals, he
briefly mentioned that there are three causes of death: karma, lack of merit
(bsod nams), and “interferences” or “obstacles” (bar chad). Only in cases where
death is caused by interferences will a chilu ritual be potentially successful.28
This threefold differentiation seemed problematic to me since, on the one
hand, karma is the commonly accepted and inescapable cause of any death;
and, on the other hand, obstacles like disease, evil influences, and many others
also result from negative karma. Likewise, a distinction between karma and
merit is surprising since exhaustion of life is the exhaustion of good karma,
which is nothing other than the exhaustion of merit. Another Tibetan infor-
mant, Geshe Tenzin Sherab, explained to me his understanding of the relation
between karma, merit, and obstacles as causes of death in relation to chilu ritu-
als. If negative karma is too strong, he said, it cannot be overcome by the power
of ritual, and the intended goal will not be achieved. If the level of positive
karma (i.e., merit) is low or if one’s merit has been exhausted, this will again
110 tibetan ritual

mean that rituals will be of no avail. The success of a death-deceiving ritual, he

continued, is guaranteed only if one is dealing with obstacles (bar chad), rather
than with negative karma or lack of merit, as the cause of the life-threatening
condition.29
Dorjee Tseten comes to similar conclusions concerning the effect of rituals,
the relationship of this to a person’s karma, and the function of merit acquired
from offerings.30 He emphasizes that “rituals will not change a person’s karma”
but instead “can stimulate a ‘latent positive potential’ ” in a person which is
capable of prevailing over “the cause of an impending misfortune.” At this
point he adds that, conversely, if one’s own karma is stronger than one’s “latent
positive potential,” a ritual will fail and will not achieve its purpose. He adds
that merit gained through offerings and gifts to monks have the same ability
as rituals to activate “the forces of latent positive potential.” According to him,
then, for a ritual to be successful the “latent positive potential” has to be stron-
ger than one’s karma. Though the “latent positive potential” may be stronger,
in some cases it has to be stimulated by the ritual or by merit gained through
offerings. In other words, rituals and merit are capable of achieving results, but
they are not capable of increasing the power of one’s “latent positive potential.”
Why in some persons this “positive potential” has to be activated at all—why it
is not already functioning by itself—prompts yet other questions.
Another exposition of how lack of merit, wrongdoings, and bodily condi-
tions can have a negative impact on practices, which otherwise could prolong
life is given by Tsongkhapa in his Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path (Lam
rim chen mo):

Because this is a time [i.e., because we live in a time] when the five
impurities are rapidly spreading, there are extremely few persons who
accumulate the great power of virtuous deeds that enable a long life.
Also, since the medicinal power of our food and such is weak, we have
little resistance to disease. The provisions we do use are not easy to
digest and thus have diminished power for enhancing the body’s great
elements. Further, since you have done little to amass the collection of
merit and your wrongdoings are very potent, practices such as mantra
recitation have little efficacy. All of this makes it extremely difficult to
prolong your life.31

The ritual texts see themselves as responding to obstacles, which may manifest
in a variety of ways, the most prominent being diseases and evil influences,
dön (gdon). One chilu ritual text, for example, includes the following entreaty:
“May my own, the beneficiary’s, and also the master’s and his retinue’s sick-
nesses, the evil influences [that harm us], and [other] obstacles resulting form
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 111

former karma and immediate conditions be pacified.”32 Diseases arise when

the five bodily elements—earth, water, fire, air, and space (sa chu me rlung nam
mkha’)—are unbalanced, leading to traditional medical diagnoses such as wind
(rlung), bile (mkhris pa), or phlegm (bad kan) diseases. A combination of the
three is also possible. The chilu ritual text called Bestowing the Bliss of Immor-
tality mentions that there are 424 possible illnesses caused by former karma
or temporary conditions, trelkyen (‘phrel rkyen) (injuries, infections etc.).33
The same text states that 84,000 evil influences can be traced back to spirits,
including gods (lha), nāgas (klu), demigods (lha ma yin), gandharvas (dri za, lit-
erally “scent-eaters”), Elemental Spirits (‘byung po), and King Spirits (rgyal po);
whereas the same number of obstacles (bgegs) are caused by demons of the cat-
egories Dü (bdud), Tsen (btsan), Gyalpo, Pehar (pe har), Mu (dmu), Mamo (ma
mo), Shinjé (gzhin rje), Damsi (dam sri), and many others.34 It is these various
types of mundane gods (‘jig rten pa’i lha) or spirits—usually associated with the
land (mountains, rivers, lakes)—as opposed to the supramundane gods or dei-
ties (‘jig rten las ‘das pa’i lha), that are responsible for diseases and obstacles.35
As mentioned in the Introduction to this volume, the majority of these spirits
are malicious, excitable, and easily offended. When slighted, they frequently
take revenge by attacking human beings with misfortune and disease. They can
also obstruct the healing process and leave those afflicted vulnerable to further
attacks by other evil spirits, including the Lord of Death (gshin rje, ‘chi bdag).
Just as predators target the sick and weak members of a herd, evil spirits find it
easy to prey on individuals whose life-energy or la (bla) has become feeble.

Soteriological Significance of Death-Deceiving Rituals

Why do Tibetans not simply accept the death threatening them as the effects of
karma and surrender to the internal and external forces at work? One answer
is given by Loter Wangpo (Blo gter dbang po, 1847–1914) in his introduction
to a death-deceiving ritual based on White Tārā, where he cites a stanza by the
master Vāgīśvarakīrti:36

There exists absolutely nothing in saṃsāra

That is more significant than life (srog).
Therefore, practice “death deceiving” immediately
Using various means.37

Commenting on this verse, Loter Wangpo adds that it is a long life span (tshe
ring ba) that ranks foremost among the “seven qualities of a high rebirth”
(mtho ris yon tan bdun). Since all goals—both temporary and ultimate [i.e.,
112 tibetan ritual

enlightenment]—depend on long life, it is very important to exert oneself in

regard to the various means for prolonging life.38
According to The Tibetan Book of the Dead, failure to perform a chilu ritual
when this is called for is even more sinful than committing one of the “five
inexpiable crimes” (mthams med pa lnga):39

[However], when the external, internal, and secret signs of death do

occur,
If one does not perform the Ritual Deception of Death,
One will incur the downfall of abandoning the assemblies of
the Peaceful and Wrathful Deities,
Who are the Conquerors, present within one’s own body.
As a result, one’s commitments will degenerate, and one will
proceed to the hells.
It is said that this is even more negative than the [five]
inexpiable crimes.
Therefore, one should diligently persevere in the practices of
the Ritual Deception of Death.40

What are the differences between “death-deceiving” rituals and other long-life
rituals like the tsedrub (tshe sgrub), “establishing life,” and the prayers request-
ing a spiritual master to remain in the world called tenzhug (brtan bzhugs) and
zhabten (zhabs brtan)?41 Over and above procedural differences—for example,
ransom images and the interaction with menial spirits are not part of tsedrub
and zhabten rituals—the most significant distinction, perhaps, is that long-life
rituals such as the recitation of longevity prayers are performed frequently, and
in some cases even daily, and they are performed even when the person is still
healthy, whereas “death-deceiving” rituals are a last refuge in attempting to
avert impeding death.

Signs Indicating Death (‘chi ltas)

Death-deceiving rituals have a strong connection to the literature explaining

the interpretation of the signs of death.42 More than that, an expert knowl-
edge of signs that indicate imminent death is a sine qua non for determining
if death can be warded off through ritual means. This is important, given that
resorting to chilu when death is irreversible is considered a grave downfall.
Hence, not only is it a heinous sin not to carry out a death-deceiving ritual
when it is called for, it is also a heinous sin to do a death-deceiving ritual when
it will be of no avail.
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 113

The Tibetan Book of the Dead provides a sophisticated distinction between

seven different types of death signs. Five of the seven deal with death that can
be reversed—that is, death that is reversible by means of a ritual. These five
types of signs are: (1) external signs, the investigation of bodily signs; (2) inter-
nal signs, the examination of vital breath and dreams between dawn and day-
break; (3) secret signs, which includes examination of the flow of one’s semen
or menstrual blood; (4) signs of remote death, the analysis of the optical projec-
tion of one’s life-span onto the sky; and (5) signs of near- death, a diverse list.
The last two classes of signs—(6) miscellaneous signs of death, and (7) signs
of being very near death43—indicate that death is inevitable; that it cannot be
turned back through rituals. According to this work, it is important to gain
expertise in reading all of these signs correctly so as to avoid two mistakes: (1)
not to perform a chilu ritual when there is a chance of averting death, and (2) to
cause the dying person’s consciousness to leave the body too early. The relevant
verses read as follows:

[Furthermore], if consciousness is transferred [too soon],

When [only] one or other of the external or internal signs of
death is present,
This is called the ‘slaying of the deities.’
One must not allow this to occur, because the downfall will be
extremely great.44

The Kālacakra Tantra also cautions against applying ritual methods to ward off
malevolent spirits when signs of irrevocable death appear. According to Wal-
lace, two reasons are mentioned. The first is the aforementioned ineffectiveness
of ritual in such a case, and the second that “this situation may create tempta-
tion for the Tantric healer to perform the rites simply for the sake of his own
material gain, while knowing that they will be of no benefit to the patient.”45
Vāgīśvarakīrti also emphasizes the importance of familiarity with death
signs. In his Pith Instructions on [the Rite of] Deceiving Death (‘Chi ba bslu ba’i
man ngag), mentioned earlier, the first two chapters, comprising thirty-one
pages, introduce the reader to a wide range of external (phyi yi mtshan nyid) and
internal signs (nang gi ‘chi ba yi mtshan nyid) of death, along with methods for
determining the time at which death is supposed to occur. For example, when
a person hears the ringing of a bell at the time he engages in sex, even if he be
like Brahma—that is, very strong—he will die after three months.46 The sensa-
tion of a piercing pain between the eyebrows on the forehead at any time is a
sure indication of immediate death.47
Death prognostications are also found in the huge literary corpus of
the fourteenth century Nyingma scholar Longchen Rabjam (Klong chen rab
114 tibetan ritual

‘byams pa Dri med ‘od zer, 1308–64). In his article “Dying, Death and Other
Opportunities,” David Germano introduces three sets of signs of death found
in Longchenpa’s The Sun and the Moon’s Intimate Union (Nyi zla gza’ bral).
Germano calls these (1) physical observations, (2) projecting one’s shadow’s
afterimage into the sky, and (3) visual phenomena.48 It would be an arduous
but fruitful enterprise to compare the manifold signs found in the different
sources to determine if there is any consistency or overlap. Was there a uni-
versally accepted range of signs that can be traced back to a common Indian
origin, or did practitioners resort to different systems of death prognostication,
some of which may have been unknown in India?
Related to the complex system of death prognostication are dreams. Con-
cerning the importance of dream-signs, one text states:

Though no dreams are real,

It is foolish not to believe in them.
Gods show us things in dreams,
And, moreover, people who see the truth of dreams,
Who come to trust in dreams,
Should be on the lookout for signs of death!49

To mention just one example of a dream-sign requiring a chilu ritual, Namchö

Mingyur Dorje (gNam chos mi ‘gyur rdo rje, 1645–67) has written:

Dreaming of being led by a man on foot or on a horse towards the

west, in the shade of trees, where one cannot be escorted by others
and, once there, hearing [someone] crying behind one: this is a sign
of death and it is necessary to perform a ritual to ransom oneself from
death.50

Divination is another practice used to determine if a person is truly on the

brink of death. In the predictive technique given by Ju Mipam,51 when inter-
preting a pair of numbers on two dice, the combination of the numbers two (ra)
and three (pa) are a sign of the demon of death (Ra pa).52 In such a case, rituals
should be performed immediately.

Description of Tibetan Chilu Rituals

One chilu text mentions that a precise number of ritual performers—one rit-
ual master (cho ga mkhan po) and four monks—is required.53 The person on
whose behalf the ritual is performed is referred to as the beneficiary (bsgrub
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 115

bya), literally “the one for whom [the goal] is to be realized.” The “patron” (sbyin
bdag) is the individual who sponsors the ritual, an individual who may of course
be the sick person or beneficiary, but may also be a relative or friend.
Most rituals are performed in three successive phases: (1) preparation
(sbyor ba), (2) the actual rite (dngos gzhi), and (3) the concluding rituals (rjes/
mjug).54 The preparatory phase of chilu rituals is concerned with the arrange-
ment of a wide variety of offerings that include sacrificial cakes, torma, of dif-
ferent types55; food offerings like the three white substances (curd, milk, and
butter) and the three sweet substances (sugar, molasses, and honey); liquids
like néchang (nas chang), barley beer; bowls of water, representing the offer-
ing to the senses; the painting of a maṇḍala of the five elements or an offer-
ing maṇḍala; small clay votive tablets, tsatsa, of stūpas or of deities56; dough
offerings in the form of an effigy (ngar mi, ngar glud, ngar phye, srog glud)
(see Figure 5.1), dough squeezed within the hand (chang bu), dough buttons
(small round pieces of dough flattened with the thumb, mtheb skyu), or small
simple dough balls (ril bu). Some ritual texts mention that one should choose
a house located in a solitary place as the site of the ritual, that one should
clean the inside by sprinkling fragrant water, mend the mud floor, and deco-
rate the room with a canopy (bla bre), umbrella (gdugs), offering banner (ba
dan), victory banner (rgyal mtshan); and, of course, that one should display
representations of the Buddha’s body, speech, and mind, or painted tangkas
(thang kas) depicting lamas, protective deities, Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and
dharma protectors.
The ritual Conquering Untimely Death also incorporates a cleansing ritual
and lists the twenty five substances found in a vase (bum rdzas nyer lnga) as
requisites.57 When preparing for the ritual Bestowing the Glory of a Long Life,
half of the water collected after ritually cleaning the body of the sick person is to
be poured into a clay vessel and mixed with milk. The other half is to be mixed
with the earth of an old stūpa, ashes of a cremated body (ro thal), black earth
(sa nag), clay dust (rdza thal) and “black words” (tshig nag). A fifteen-inch-high
black body of the Lord of Death with the head of a buffalo is sculpted from this
mixture; as implements, Death holds a stick and a lasso, and he is covered with
a black garment.58
The employment of feces in the preparatory stage of the Turning Away the
Face of the Lord of Death59 proves its close affinity to Indian tantric practices. To
present the sick person as unattractive as possible to the spirits threatening his
or her life, a large carpet is saturated with various bodily substances belonging
to the beneficiary, including stool, urine, nasal mucus, spittle, nails, and hair. A
twenty-inch-high effigy (ngar phye)—to be offered in place of the foul carpet—is
then created from flour mixed with various precious ingredients and infused
116 tibetan ritual

figure 5.1. An effigy of the form typically used in substitution-type rituals.

Photo J. Cabezón, Sera Monastery, Bylakuppe, India (1982).

with the breath (i.e., life-force) of many different species of sentient beings like
humans and animals.60 The effigy has blind eyes (long tang gi mig) etc., its sense
organs still being in the process of developing. Into its belly is inserted a new
clay vessel filled with drawn maṇḍalas of the five elements and wrapped with
a cross vajra design (rgya gram) made of threads of five colors.61 A red syllable
(of the five elements), raṃ, drawn on paper and rolled up, is inserted into the
effigy’s eyes, a green yaṃ into its ears, a white khaṃ into its nose, a yellow laṃ
into its tongue, and a blue aḥ into its heart.62
All the ritual objects and substances just mentioned are just a small selec-
tion of possible items described in the texts. The texts also frequently tells us
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 117

that the number of offerings of a particular type—like torma, tsatsa, changbu,

etc.—should be equal in number to the age of the sick person.
Stage two, the performance of the actual rite (dngos gzhi) generally begins
with the common procedure of taking refuge and arousing the proper altruistic
motivation (bodhicitta). Then the ritual master dissolves himself into a state
of emptiness from which he visualizes the emergence of protector deities as
supporters of the ritual. He then performs a number of other subrituals typi-
cally embedded into the chilu rite, including cleansing and purification rituals
for offerings, and for images or the sick person’s body, as well as consecration
rituals of objects and substances to be offered to the deities.63 One of the most
detailed structural analysis of the main part of the ritual is found in the Wisdom
Sword Cutting the Lasso of the Lord of Death,64 where it is divided into fourteen
individual steps numbered and named as follows:

1.taking refuge (p. 3.3),

2.training the mind in the four immeasurables65 (p. 3.5),
3.consecrating the offerings (p. 3.5),
4.consecrating the ground (p. 5.3),
5.inviting the field of refuge (p. 6.2),
6. requesting the field to remain (p. 7.1),
7.offering a seat (p. 7.3),
8.bathing ritual (7.4),
9. wiping off the bodies of the deities after the bath (p. 8.3),
10. offering garments and jewelry (p. 8.4),
11.maṇḍala offering (9.4),
12. paying homage (p. 12.3),
13. reading the ten king sūtras66 once and formulating the request to ward
off the danger of death for the dying person (p. 13.4), and
14. offering the “torma of subsequent karmic connection” (las kyi rjes ‘brel
gtor ma) (p. 14.2).

The second or main stage of another chilu text, Liberating the Lotus,67 also incor-
porates several other subrituals like consecration (rab gnas) and bathing (khrus
gsol). The offering of tsatsa—a method of rectifying the imbalance of the five
elements in the body of someone in danger of dying—plays an important role
in this ritual. Eventually, the tsatsas have to be brought to the tsatsa house or
tsakhang (tsha khang), a building where tsatsas are kept, or else placed at the
shore of a river. Especially during the consecration ceremony of tsatsas of the
five elements, the master performing the ritual has to engage in a far more
detailed visualization/meditative practice—more complex, that is, than in other
parts of the chilu ritual:
118 tibetan ritual

First, in order to consecrate the tsatsa, [the ritual master] recites the
mantras of the deity [represented in] the tsatsa, and throwing mustard
seeds, he exorcises obstructing spirits. [Then he] cleanses [the tsatsa].
He performs the bathing [ritual] by reciting “Just as, as soon as he was
born . . . (ji ltar bltams pa),” and he recites the [bathing] mantra. Reciting
oṃ svabhāva and so forth, he purifies the tsatsas by [seeing them] as
empty. From within a state of the emptiness of all phenomena, on top
of a lion throne, lotus and moon seats, from the [syllable] oṃ a wheel
manifests marked by oṃ. From [the wheel], a white Vairocana [appears]
with the mudrā of supreme enlightenment, decorated with all kinds
of silk and jewels; he sits in the vajra posture with both legs [crossed].
Vairocana completely transforms into dharmakāya stūpas with perfect
qualities. In the “vases” [i.e., the bulbous cavity] of these stūpas, on
thrones lifted in the middle by a lion, in the east by an elephant, in the
south by a horse, in the west by a peacock, and in the north by Garuḍa,
on the five petals of the moon-lotus [the Five Wisdom Buddhas] appear:
in the middle, from the [syllable] oṃ, a white Vairocana with the mudrā
of supreme enlightenment; in the east, from the [syllable] hūṃ, a blue
Akṣobhya with the earth-touching meditation mudrā; in the south,
from the [syllable] tāṃ, a yellow Ratnasambhava, performing the medi-
tation and supreme generosity mudrās; in the west, from the [syllable]
hrī, a red Amitābha with two hands joined [in the meditation mudrā]
(phyag gnyis mnyam gzhag); in the north, from the [syllable] āḥ, a green
Amoghasiddhi with the refuge-granting mudrā.68 Each of them is deco-
rated with jewels. They all sit with both legs in the vajra posture. They
are everywhere surrounded by throngs of Buddhas and bodhisattvas.
All of them have at their three spots [i.e., at the head, throat and heart,
the syllables] oṃ āḥ hūṃ. Light radiates forth from the [syllable] hūṃ,
encircling the family of the Five [Wisdom Buddhas] together with the
Buddhas and their spiritual sons. Come here. [Saying,] “Ba dzra sa mā
dzaḥ dzaḥ hūṃ baṃ hoḥ sa,” they dissolve inseparably [into the visual-
ized replicas]. In the [stūpa] vases, from the [syllable] oṃ at the fore-
heads of whole group of gods, [there appears] a wheel [marked] with
[the syllable] oṃ. From [the syllable] āḥ at their throats [there appears] a
lotus with [the syllable] āḥ. From [the syllable] hūṃ at their hearts [there
appears] a vajra with [the syllable] hūṃ. [At this point the ritual master
recites a prayer.] The offering should be made by reciting the verse:

“I offer to all Buddhas and bodhisattvas drinking water, water

for bathing their feet, flowers, incense, butter-lamps, scent, food and
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 119

music. After accepting the offering, I request you to bring about the
goals of sentient beings.”69

As discussed earlier, temporary conditions that lead to untimely death are dis-
ease, evil influences, and obstacles. One may thus expect that any chilu ritual will
counteract all three conditions as a whole, or else that there should exist specific
rituals focussing on each of the three individually. The texts themselves do not
indicate the specific condition of untimely death to which they are responding.
Nonetheless, rituals like Liberating the Lotus pay apparent attention to the rein-
forcement of the five elements in the body, a clear indication that here it is health
that is the chief concern. Other rituals chiefly consist of a direct negotiation with
the Lord of Death and other evil spirits. In these cases, the goal is to persuade
the spirits that the offerings being made by the ritualist is superior to the human
body of the beneficiary. In this way, the person is freed from the grasp of demons.
In the ritual Quelling the Lord of Death, the ritual master visualizes a host of evil
spirits (‘byung po), including the Lord of Death, appearing before him and first
reminds them of their former vows with the following words:

All you powerful spirits,

According to the vows you accepted in a former life
In the presence of the Great Glorious Heruka,
You committed yourselves not to violate the vows.
If you violate your vows,
Your power and strength will decline.70

The ritual master then requests the king of the Lords of Death (‘Chi bdag gshin
rje’i rgyal po) and all evil spirits from the upper, lower, and intermediate realms
to listen to him, the yogi, for a moment. He asks them to accept the effigy as a
substitute for the sick person by praising the effigy’s qualities: originating from
the five elements, and possessing all five elements, the mental and physical
aggregates and all the sense faculties, and because of various unique qualities,
it is superior to the flesh and blood body of a human being. After taking the
offerings, the spirits are asked to relax their grip on human beings: to liberate
the ritual master and other yogis, the generous beneficiary (i.e., the sick per-
son requesting and paying for the ritual), together with his or her family and
friends. The master urges the spirits to take the food, small tormas, and butter-
lamps as provisions for their journey and, without lingering, to instantly return
to the other side of the vast ocean.71 Liberating the Lotus is another example of
a ritual that is responding to the influence of evil spirits who may be harming
and bearing a grudge against the beneficiary. These include sickness-causing
demons (nad bdag), the Lord of Death (‘chi bdag), lü (glud = klu? bdag), and
120 tibetan ritual

pollution-causing demons (grib ‘dre). They are summoned by the ritual master
to receive an effigy as replacement for the body of the afflicted person. During
the exchange, the ritual master addresses the spirits with the following verses:

This ransom effigy (glud kyi ngar mi) [composed of] the five elements
Has a beautiful face, eyes and clothes.
Foods like chang bu and raw meat,
Luxuries, and possessions are piled up [as high as] a mountain.
[I further] increase them using the samādhi mantra.
Here, today, I offer them as ransom
For the life and life-force (tshe dang srog) of [the person] named so and so.
Take this ransom and give back his/her life!
Relax your grasp and liberate him/her!
Don’t harm him/her from now on!72

A third group of ritual texts attempts to thwart the danger of dying by seeking
the support of protector deities, Buddhas, and bodhisattvas. In an example of
this from the system of Ngog Lotsāwa Londen Sherab (Rngog lo tsā ba Blo
ldan shes rab, 1095–1109), the offering is not made directly to the malevolent
spirits, but primarily to the protective deity Black Flaming Mouth (Kha ‘bar ma
nag po), relying on her supernatural powers to rescue the dying person. That
the offering may also satisfy the Lord of Death is mentioned as a side effect of
the ritual.73 The relevant verses of the ritual read as follows:

In order to ward off the danger of Shinjé, the Lord of Death,

I request the body emanation of the queen Flaming Mouth to come.
The large torma comprising all five sense pleasures,
Dough buttons (theb kyu), balls (ril bu), handprints (chang bu) and the
ransom effigy (gzugs glud)—
This offering decorated with red flesh and blood—
I offer to the queen Flaming Mouth and her entourage.
May it also satisfy the host of Lords of Death.74

Later, the text reveals the origin of the practice and the great power of the rit-
ual by telling the story of how “Mo ha lo ma,” the son of Ngogpa (Rngog pa),
was sick and how his father respectfully beseeched the goddess Black Flaming
Mouth for help. The goddess ordered him to hurry and perform her death-
deceiving ritual. By doing as ordered, his son came back to life from the dead.
When the son was asked what he had experienced, he replied:

I dreamed that a red person led me to a thorny plain in the south. Then
a girl of pure blue color arrived and told me, “You and I have to return
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 121

from that wrong path.” She carried me inside a castle. Then I regained
consciousness.75

Conclusions

Indian death-deceiving rituals (mṛtyu vañcana) were translated into Tibetan

around the eleventh century, and at this point became accessible at least to
the literate part of Tibetan population. The Indian idea of cheating death is
based on a variety of methods to accumulate merit, and on meditational, yogic,
and alchemical techniques that prevent aging and extend the life span. When
introduced into Tibet, some aspects of these rituals—like the accumulation
of merit, the recitation of mantras, mudrās, meditation practices and visual-
izations—were likely incorporated into already existing Tibetan indigenous
rituals centered on sacrifice. One may speculate that, after the introduction
of Buddhism, human and animal sacrifices were to a great extent replaced by
the offering of dough substitute effigies, which became the most characteristic
element of Tibetan chilu rituals. Another purely Tibetan aspect of chilu rituals
is the direct conversation between the ritual master and evil spirits gripping
the body of a dying person. Dö (mdos), yé (yas), and lü (glud) are most likely the
oldest examples of ancient Tibetan ransom rites preserved in the Bön tradi-
tion. The sophisticated practices and techniques in reading signs of death as
presented by Vāgīśvarakīrti seem to be of Indian origin, and were fully adapted
by Tibetans, who in the course of time developed their own systems of death
prognostications by including evil influences due to the mundane spirits popu-
lating the Tibetan landscape. Finally, the relation between rituals and the trio of
karma, merit, and obstacles raises several questions concerning the doctrinal
distinction between untimely death and a natural exhaustion of one’s life span.
As shown earlier, the influence of rituals on karma is explained in manifold,
sometimes contradictory, and not always convincing ways. It may well be that
these are attempts to make these rituals, which have been practiced long before
the advent of Buddhism, conform to Buddhist concepts and principles.

notes
1. This involves the purchase of one or more animals—for example, sheep, goats,
or yaks—to prevent their being killed for the meat. The animal will then usually be
marked in some way to set it apart from the rest of the flock, and will be allowed to roam
freely for the rest of its natural life.
2. Krang dbyi sun et al., Bod rgya tshig mdzod chen mo, 864: ‘chi bslu, ‘chi ba zlog pa
byed pa’i thabs shig. Sarat Chandra Das, Tibetan-English Dictionary (Kathmandu: Ratna
122 tibetan ritual

Pustak Bhandar, 1985), 444: “‘chi ba bslu ba, Skr. Mr·tyuvañcana, to deceive death, to
ransom the life of a dying person.” In the Sambotha Dictionary, CD ROM (Seattle:
Nithartha International, 2008 ed.), which compiles entries from several different
sources (e.g., James Valbe = JV and Rangjung Yeshe = RY), we find: “‘chi ba bslu ba, save
one from death by paying ransom, deceive death, ransom life of a dying person [JV]”;
“‘chi bslu, ritual for “ransoming” from impending death [RY].” The latter has for bslu ba
“to ransom; deception, fraudulent, to deceive, to lure; ft. of {slu ba} misleading [RY].” In
Monier Monier-Williams, Sanskrit-English Dictionary (New Delhi: Munishram
Manoharlal, 1988), we find: “mr·tyu vañcana, death-cheater” (828), and “vañcana, cheat-
ing, deception, fraud” (914).
3. ‘Chi ba bslu ba (Mr·tyuṣṭhāpaka), Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh no. 1702, Rgyud ‘grel
sha, ff. 58a.3–5: de’i rjes gro ga la gur gum gyis ‘khor lo rtsibs bdun pa bris la che ge mo’i sdig
pa zhi bar gyur cig la sogs pa spel la snying po dang gzungs dgod par bya’o/ de nas rin po
che’am rdza sar pa kha sar ram/ rwa’am shing gi za ma tog gi nang du ‘khor lo dril la skud
pa dmar pos snod lan mang du bcing/ dar ram ras dkar po’i na bzas gyogs la dge ‘dun gyi sde
chen po’i gtsug lag gi shing ngam/ mchod rten gyi shing la bcings la/ dus khyad par can la
mchod pa chen pos mchod cing bsgom pa dang snying po dang gzungs dang bstod pa rnams
brjod par bya’o.
4. Ritual texts contained in the Bstan ‘gyur concerning deceiving death (‘chi bslu)
include: (1) ‘Chi ba bslu ba, Skr. Mr·tyuṣṭhāpaka, authored by Tathāgatarakṣita and trans-
lated by Mya ngan med pa’i dpal (Aśokaśrī), Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 1702, Rgyud
‘grel sha, ff. 57b.5–58a6 [TBRC Bstan ‘gyur sde dge par ma, vol. 28, ff. 114.5–115.6]. (2)
‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, Skr. Mr·tyuvañcanopadeśa, authored by Vāgīśvarakīrti (Ngag gi
dbang phyug grags pa), Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 1748, Rgyud ‘grel sha, ff. 118b.7–
133b.3; for a revision by Si tu paṇ chen of Atiśa’s (b.972/982) and Rin chen bzang po’s
(958–1055) earlier translation, see Si tu paṇ chen Chos kyi ‘byung gnas, Ta’i si tu pa kun
mkhyen chos kyi ‘byung gnas bstan pa’i nyin byed kyi bka’ ‘bum: Collected Works of the Great
Ta’i Si tu pa kun mkhyen chos kyi ‘byung gnas bstan pa’i nyin byed (Sansal, Kangra, HP:
Palpung Sungrab Nyamso Khang, 1990), vol. 7, 1–61; TBRC Bstan ‘gyur sde dge par
ma, vol. 28, ff. 236.5–266.3. (3) ‘Chi ba blu ba’i bsdus don, Skr. Mr·tyuvañcanapiṇḍārtha,
also authored by Vāgīśvarakīrti, Peking Bstan ‘gyur, no. 4806, Rgyud ‘grel zhu, ff.
146a2–147b7. (4) ‘Chi ba slu ba’i sgrol ma dkar mo’i sgrub thabs, Skr.
Mr·tyuvañcanasitatārāsādhana, authored by the chief disciple (slob ma thu bo) of
Vāgīśvarakīrti, Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 3496, Rgyud ‘grel mu, ff. 150a.1–150b.3;
TBRC Bstan ‘gyur sde dge par ma, vol. 77, ff. 299.1–300.3. (5) Mi pham mgon po la bstod
pa’i ‘chi slu ma zhes bya ba, Skr. Ajitanāthastutimr·tyuvañcanā nāma, authored by
Abhayakīrti (‘Jigs med grags pa), Peking Bstan ‘gyur, no. 4605, vol. pu, 4a.1–4a.8. (6)
‘Chi ba slu ba’i gdams pa, Skr. Mr·tyuvañcanāmnāya, unknown author, Peking Bstan
‘gyur, no. 3660, Rgyud ‘grel nyu, ff. 210a.5–211a.2; Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 2839,
Rgyud nu, ff. 180b.1–181a.4; TBRC Bstan ‘gyur sde dge par ma, vol. 73, ff. 360.1–361.4.
(7) ‘Chi blu’i bsdus don, Skr. Mr·tyuvañcanapiṇḍārtha, unknown author, Peking Bstan
‘gyur, no. 4807, Rgyud ‘grel zhu, ff. 147b.7–150b.8. (8) ‘Chi ba slu ba’i sgrol ma’i
sgrub thabs, Skr. Mr·tyuvañcanatārāsādhana, unknown author, Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur,
Toh. no. 3495, Rgyud ‘grel mu, ff. 149b.4–150a.1; TBRC Bstan ‘gyur sde dge par ma,
vol. 77, 298.4–299.1. (9) ‘Chi ba slu ba’i man ngag gi sgrol ma’i sgrub thab, Skr.
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 123

Mr·tyuvañcanopadeśatārāsādhana, unknown author, Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 3504,
Rgyud ‘grel mu, ff. 154a.3–154b.5; TBRC Bstan ‘gyur sde dge par ma, vol. 77, ff. 307.3–308.5.
(10) ‘Chi ba slu ba, Skr. Mr·tyuvañcana, unknown author, Peking Bstan ‘gyur no. 4864,
Rgyud ‘grel zu, ff. 173b.1–174a.7.
5. I have Prof. Phillip Stanley to thank for his help with the dating these two texts.
6. He also wrote and co-translated another text in the Tengyur entitled A Discourse
on the Proper Conduct of [with?] a Yoginī. Tathāgatarakṣita, rNal ‘byor ma kun tu spyod pa’i
bshad sbyar, Peking Bstan ‘gyur, no. 2139, Rgyud ‘grel na ff. 139b.5–160a.7; Sde dge
Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. no. 1422, Rgyud ‘grel wa, ff. 120a.5–139a.3.
7. Si tu paṇ chen, Collected Works, vol. 7, 61.2–3.
8. Namkhai Norbu, Drung, Deu and Bön: Narrations, Symbolic Languages and the
Bön Tradition in Ancient Tibet (Dharamsala: Library of Tibetan Works and Archives,
1995), 80.
9. Namkhai Norbu, Drung, Deu and Bön, 77: “In any case, after having prepared
the prescribed ritual objects and empowering them with mantras, mudrās and medita-
tion, they are dispatched to the specific instigators of the disturbances.”
10. Namkhai Norbu, Drung, Deu and Bön, 252n4.
11. Vāgīśvarakīrti,‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, in Si tu paṇ chen, Collected Works, vol.
7, 32. 2: ‘bad pas ‘chi ba bslu ba ni/ dad pa nyid kyis bya bar nus/ de bas dad pa brtan par
bya/ gzhan du ngal ba don med ‘gyur. In the rest of this chapter, all references to the ‘Chi
ba blu ba’i man ngag is to the Si tu edition.
12. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 33.4: bya nya ri dags [dwags] rkun ma
dang/ sbrul sogs gsad bya’i phyogs gyur rnams/ srog bskyabs pa yis ‘phral du ni/ tshe thung ba
yang tshe ring ‘gyur.
13. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 37.2–4: indranīla rin chen sogs/ nor bu
chen po gzhan dag kyang/ bcangs pas ‘chi ba thams cad ni/ bslu bar ‘gyur ba the tshom
med.
14. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 38.4: sgrol ma’i spyan sngar bzlas nas
ni/ zho dang sbrang rtsis sngar sbags pa’i/ dårva’i myu gu’i rtse mo ni/ shar dang byang bstan
sbyin sreg bya/ sngon gyi las las skyes ldang ba’i/ ‘chi ba ‘ang nges par zlog par byed.
15. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 41.4–6: ‘jig rten na ni dngos gzhan
gang/ sngogs kyis mi ‘grub de yod min/ yang dag dad pas ‘bad pa las/ sngags rnams yid bzhin
nor bur mtshungs.
16. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 41.6: bkres shas che ba’i sa phyogs su/
sle tres gcig pu’am yang na ni/ sman gzhan dag dang lhan cig tu/ rtag tu shin tu spyad par
bya/ de yis lus ni brtan gyur pas/ gshin rje’i sgo ni mthong mi ‘gyur.
17. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 43.4–6: ‘bras bu gsum ni spyir bsdus
pa’am/ po so bhingarāja bcas/ rnal ‘byor pa yis rtag spyad na/ bdud rtsi lnga yi bcud len te/
gnyer ma skar dkar rnams dang bral/ rdo rje’i lus ni gzugs bzang ldan/ bskal ba la sogs grangs
kyis ni/ ‘chi ba’ang nges par zlog pa yin.
18. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 45.6–46.1: bgegs dgra’i gsang sngags
‘bum phrag ni/ legs bzlas sbyin sreg khri byas pas/ bgegs rnams thams cad bzlog par bya.
19. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 47.4: byang chub mchog gi phyag rgyar
ldan/ ‘od zer dkar po’i tshogs ‘phro ba’i/ rnam snang dkar po bsgoms na ni/ ‘khor srid du ni
‘chi ‘os min.
124 tibetan ritual

20. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 49.4–6: tshangs dbang khyab ‘jug nyi
zla dang/ drag po phyogs skyong ‘dod lhas kyang/ ba spu’i rtse mo’ang mi gcod par/ ‘chi bdag
lta bur ‘chi las rgyal/ skra dkar gnyer ma skal ngan dang/ nad dang dbul ba ku zad byed/ seng
ge la sogs ‘jigs chen brgyad/ sdug bsngal tshogs ni ‘jig par byed.
21. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 50.6: he ru ka yi rnal ‘byor bsgoms/ byas
nas de yongs gyur pa ni/ ka pā la yi rnam par bsgom/ keng rus kyi gzugs bsgom pa’am/ yang
na khaṭvāṅga ru bsgom/ gsad par ‘os pa ma yin phyir/ ‘chi ba nyid ni mi ‘byung ste.
Vāgīśvarakīrti states that this meditation technique is contained in the Cakrasaṃvara
Tantra (‘Khor lo sdom pa’i rgyud).
22. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 55.2–4: rtag tu ‘bab na chu rgyun ‘jam
pos kyang/ dus su rdo leb dag kyang rnam par ‘big/ gtsubs na shing las me ni ‘byung ‘gyur
zhing/ brkos par gyur na sa la hu ‘byung ‘gyur/ mi yis rtsol ba byas na mi ‘grub med/ de ‘dir
‘os pa’i ‘bad kun ‘bras bur ‘gyur/ ‘di na ‘chi ba bslu ba rnams/ shin tu mang po shes nas
kyang/ nyams ma blangs na mal du ni/ bshang bas gos zhing(?) khyod ‘chi ‘gyur.
23. Rev. Walter Asboe, “The Scape-Goat in Western Tibet,” Man 36 (1936): 74–75,
and “Sacrifices in Western Tibet,” Man 36 (1936): 75–76. On the use of effigies in magi-
cal rites described by a nineteenth-century Tibetan author, see chapter 7 by Cuevas in
this volume.
24. Catherine Bell, Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1997), 93–137.
25. Richard Barron, tr. and ed., The Autobiography of Jamgön Kongtrul: A Gem of
Many Colors (Ithaca: Snow Lion Publications, 2003), 521–26.
26. Graham Coleman with Thupten Jinpa, ed., The Tibetan Book of The Dead: The
Great Liberation by Hearing in the Intermediate States, tr. Gyurme Dorje (New York:
Viking, 2005), 156.
27. This distinction is found in ‘Be lo Karma tshe dbang kun khyab, Yi dam zhi ba
dang khro bo’i tshogs kyi sgrub thabs nor bu’i phreng ba’i lo rgyus chos bshad rab ‘byams,
block print, 87 folios, Og min mtshur mdo’i chos grwa (no other bibliographical infor-
mation given), f. 83a. Beyer refers to this passage from ‘Be lo’s text in The Cult of Tārā,
368.
28. Gehlek Rinpoche, private communication, 2007.
29. Geshe Tenzin Sherab, private communication, 2007.
30. Dorjee Tseten, “Tibetan Art of Divination.”
31. Tsong-kha-pa, The Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path to Enlightenment: Lam
rim chen mo of Tsong kha pa 3 vols., tr. The Lamrim Chenmo Translation Committee,
eds., Joshua W. C. Cuttler and Guy Newland (Albany, NY: Snow Lion Publications,
2000), 1: 156.
32. Zhu chen Tshul khrims rin chen, Kha ‘bar ma dkar mo la brten nas ‘chi ba bslu
zhing bar gcod bzlog pa’i thabs ‘chi med bde ster (Bestowing the Bliss of Immortality: A
Method to Avert Obstacles and Deceive Death Based Upon the White [Goddess] Flaming
Mouth), in his Gsung ‘bum (Kathmandu: Sachen International, Guru Lama, 2005), vol.
6, 342.1: bdag dang sbyin bdag dpon slob ‘khor dang bcas pa’i sngon gyi las dang ‘phral gyi
rkyen las gyur ba’i nad gdon bar du gcod pa thams cad zhi bar gyur cig.
33. Zhu chen Tshul khrims rin chen, ‘Chi bslu ‘chi med bde gter, 342.5–6: sngon gyi
las dang ‘phrel gyi rkyen las gyur pa’i nad kyi rigs su gyur pa rlung las gyur pa dang/ mkhris
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 125

pa las gyur pa dang/ bad kan las gyur pa dang/ ‘dus pa las gyur pa ste nad bzhi brgya
rtsa bzhi.
34. Zhu chen Tshul khrims rin chen, ‘Chi bslu ‘chi med bde gter, 342.6–343.2: gdon
gyi rigs su gyur pa lha’i gdon dang/ klu’i gdon dang/ dri za’i gdon dang/ ‘byung po’i gdon
dang/ rgyal po’i gdon la sogs pa gdon stong phrag brgyad cu rtsa bzhi’i gdon thams cad zhi bar
gyur cig/ bgegs kyi rigs su gyur pa bdud/ btsan/ rgyal po/ pe har/ dmu/ ma mo/ gshin rje/
dam sri la sogs bgegs rigs stong phrag brgyad bcu rtsa bzhi’i gdon thams cad zhi bar gyur cig.
35. Celestial gods dwell in three distinct heavenly spaces: from the “top” down, the
formless realm, form realm, and desire realm. Mundane spirits inhabit the landscape
residing in places like mountains, rivers, and lakes. Tibetan tradition often divides up
the huge number of these gods and demons into eight classes (lha srin sde brgyad).
Samuel, Civilized Shamans: Buddhism in Tibetan Societies (Washington,DC: Smithsonian
Institution Press, 1993), 162–63 adds two more, distinguishing between ten classes of
local and regional gods for a total of ten: (1) aquatic deities or klu; (2) badly intentioned,
illness-causing spirits or gnyan (See chapter 2 by Karmay in this volume); (3) rock spirits
or btsan; (4) king spirits or rgyal po; (5) disease-causing spirits or gza’; (6) guardian dei-
ties or gnod sbyin; (7) ferocious female deities or ma mo; (8) malevolent spirits or bdud;
(9) lords of the soil or sa bdag; and (10) spirits who are benevolent toward human beings
or lha. At present, it is difficult to determine if the huge number of Tibetan gods and
spirits found in Tibetan literature can all be categorized into one of these ten classes. A
precise classification becomes indeed arduous when one and the same class of god is
depicted in the texts with opposite characteristics. A case in point is the lha, commonly
described as spirits benevolent toward humans but, occasionally also accused of being
the cause of evil influences (lha’i gdon). See Zhu chen Tshul khrims rin chen, Bestowing
the Bliss of Immortality, 342.6.
36. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 119a.4–5. Beyer traces the origin of
the cult of White Tārā in Tibet back to Vāgīśvarakīrti’s ‘Chi bslu texts translated in the
Bstan ‘gyur. See Beyer, The Cult of Tārā, 12.
37. Blo gter dbang po, Rje btsun sgrol ma dkar po la brten pa’i bla slu’i cho ga ring
‘tsho’i dpal gter (Bestowing the Glory of a Long Life: A Death Deceiving Ritual Based upon the
Noble White Tārā) in ‘Jam dbyangs mkhyen brtse’i dbang po and ‘Jam dbyangs blo gter
dbang po (compilers), Sgrub thabs kun btus: A Collection of Sādhanas and Related Texts of
The Vajrayāna Traditions of Tibet (Dehradun: G.T.K. Lodoy, N. Gyaltsen & N. Lungtok,
1970), vol. 1, f. 637.2: ‘khor bar srog las gces pa ni/ ci yang yod pa ma yin te/ de bas myur du
thabs mang pos/ ‘chi ba slu ba kun tu spyad.
38. The other six qualities are noble family (rigs bzang ba), beautiful body (gzugs
mdzes pa), health (nad med pa), good fortune (skal ba bzang ba), abundant wealth (nor
phyug pa), and great intelligence (shes rab che ba). Blo gter dbang po, “Bestowing the
Glory of a Long Life,” f. 637.2–3: mtho ris yon tan bdun gyi gtso bo tshe ring ba nyid yin la/
de la brten nas gnas skabs dang mthar thug gi don thams cad bde blag tu ‘grub pas na/ ring
‘tsho’i thabs la ‘bad pa gal che.
39. The mtshams med pa lnga or “five inexpiable sins” are matricide (ma gsod pa),
killing arhats (dgra bcom pa gsod pa), patricide (pha gsod pa), creating schism in the
saṅgha (dge ‘dun gyi dbyen byas ba), and drawing blood from a tathāgata’s body (bde bzhin
gshegs pa’i sku la ngan sems kyis khrag ‘byin pa).
126 tibetan ritual

40. Coleman and Thubten Jinpa, The Tibetan Book of the Dead, 180.
41. For a historical approach to the zhabs brtan and its precursor, the brtan bzhugs
literary genre, see José I. Cabezón, “Firm Feet and Long Lives: The Zhabs brtan Genre
of Tibetan Buddhism,” in Tibetan Literature: Studies in Genre, edited by José Ignacio
Cabezón and Roger R. Jackson (Ithaca: Snow Lion, 1996), 344–57.
42. A few examples of texts examining a wide range of signs of death include: Dri
med ‘od zer, ‘Chi ltas dran pa’i me long (TBRC W12787); Karma gling pa, ‘Chi ltas mtshan
ma rang grol, translated in Colemen and Thubten Jinpa, The Tibetan Book of the Dead;
Rol pa’i rdo rje, ‘Chi ltas brtag pa dang ‘chi bslu tshe khrid bcas (TBRC W2777); and Dge
‘dun grub pa, ‘Chi ltas brtag pa dang tshe bsring ba (TBRC W814).
43. Coleman with Thupten Jinpa, The Tibetan Book of the Dead, 151–80. Beyer, The
Cult of Tārā, 368–75, translated and annotated a selection of a text in which these signs
are mentioned.
44. Coleman with Thupten Jinpa, The Tibetan Book of the Dead, 180.
45. Vesna Wallace, “Buddist Tantric Medicine in the Kālacakratantra,” Pacific
World, New Series 11 (1995): 161–62.
46. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 9.4–6: ‘khrig spyod tshe na dril bu yi/ sgra
ni rna bar thos gyur na/ gal te tshangs pa dang mnyam yang/ de tshe zla ba gsum nas ‘chi.
47. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 8.4–6: mdzod spu’i gnas su phug snyam
na/ nges par ‘phral du ‘chi bar ‘gyur.
48. Germano gives an excellent translation and description of these signs in his arti-
cle. See David Germano, “Dying, Death, and Other Opportunities,” in Religions of Tibet in
Practice, ed. Donald S. Lopez, Jr. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997), 458–93.
49. Vāgīśvarakīrti, ‘Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, 20.2–4: rmi lam thams cad bden min
yang/ de la mi dad rig ma yin/ rmi lam dag tu lhas bstan dang/ yang na rmi lam bden
mthong mis/ rmi lam yid ches byas nas su/ ‘chi ba’i mtshan ma lta bar byos.
50. Robin Cooke, tr. from the Italian, and Enrico Dell’Angelo, tr. from the Tibetan,
Namchö Mingyur Dorje: The Interpretation of Dreams in a 17th Century Tibetan Text
(Arcidosso GR: Shang Shung Edizioni, 1996), 13.
51. On Mipam, see Cuevas’s chapter in this volume.
52. Jay Goldberg and Lobsang Dakpa, tr., Mo: Tibetan Divination System [by] Jamgon
Mipham, (Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion, 1990), 53–55.
53. ‘Jam dbyangs mkhyen brtse’i dbang po, Bzang po spyod pa’i cho ga’i sgo nas ‘chi
bslu ba’i gdams pa gsal byed (Elucidating the Instructions for Deceiving Death Based upon the
Ritual of the ‘Excellent Conduct’ [Prayer]) in ‘Jam dbyangs mkhyen brtse’i dbang po and
‘Jam dbyangs blo gter dbang po, Sgrub thabs kun btus, vol. 1, 602.1–2.
54. The three-part division mentioned here is based on Martin Brauen’s descrip-
tion of a Bon po death ritual. See Martin Brauen, “A Bon-po Death Ceremony,” in
Tibetan Studies: Presented at the Seminar of Young Tibetologists, Zürich, June 26–July 1,
1977, ed. Martin Brauen and Per Kvaerne (Zurich: Völkerkundemuseum der Universität
Zürich, 1978), 54.
55. These include gtor mas of different shapes (e.g., zlum gtor, round cakes), sizes
(bshos bu/ gtor chung), and colors—depending on whether they are being offered to tute-
lary deities deities (yi dam), local deities (gzhi bdag), or if they are gtor mas for blocking
karmic debts (lan chags bgegs kyi gtor ma).
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 127

56. The mud for these clay tablets should have been obtained from a clean place.
After they are pressed using a mold, they should be consecrated by reciting the Essence
of Interdependence (rten ‘brel snying po) mantra and the mantra oṃ hūṃ tāṃ hrī a. Some
tsha tsha are molded by mixing the clay with the hair, nails, and clothing of the sick
person.
57. Blo bzang nor bu shes rab, Bzang po spyod pa’i sgo nas ‘chi bslu ji ltar bya tshul
gyi cho ga’i ngag ‘don dus min ‘chi ‘joms (Conquering Untimely Death: A Text in Recitation
Format of a Ritual Procedure of Deceiving Death Based on Excellent Conduct [Prayer]), in his
Collected Works (Beijing: Yellow Pagoda, 1996/97), vol. 2, 42–43.
58. Zhu chen Tshul khrims rin chen, Rje btsun sgrol ma dkar mo la brten pa’i ‘chi
[b]slu’i cho ga ring ‘tsho’i dpal ster (Bestowing the Glory of a Long Life: A Death Deceiving
Ritual Based upon the Noble White Tārā) in ‘Jam dbyangs mkhyen brtse’i dbang po and
‘Jam dbyangs blo gter dbang po, Sgrub thabs kun btus, vol. 1, 475.2–4.
59. Bdud ‘joms ‘Jigs bral ye shes rdo rje, Tshe sgrub ‘chi med srog thig dang ‘brel bar
‘chi ba bslu ba’i cho ga ‘chi bdag gdong zlog, (Turning Away the Face of the Lord of Death: A
Death Deceiving Ritual Connected with the Life Drop [of] Longevity [and] Immorality]), in
‘Chi med srog thig: Gter mas and Ritual Texts Collected by Bdud ‘joms ‘jigs bral ye shes rdo
rje (Varanasi: Deepak Press, 1973), 249–59.
60. Germano, who describes a very similar ritual, correctly states that inviting
humans and animals to breathe on the dough infuses it with their life-force. Germano,
“Dying, Death, and Other Opportunities,” 469.
61. Bdud ‘joms rin po che, ‘Chi bdag gdong zlog, f. 252.2–3: nam mkha’ rlung me chu
sa’i rim pas ‘khor lo rnams brtsegs te/ rdza phor so ma kha sbyor du bcug/ tshon skud lngas
rgya gram du dkris.
62. Bdud ‘joms rin po che, ‘Chi bdag gdong zlog, f. 252.3–5: gdan gzhi rgya che ba
zhig gi steng du bsgrub bya’i dri che chung/ skra sen kha sna’i chu la sogs pa dri mas sbags
shing/ rin po che sna tshogs bsres pa’i ngar phye dud ‘gro dang mi la sogs pa’i sems can rigs mi
mthun pa du mar bgres [bsres] shing dbugs la bdugs pa’i zan la ‘dra glud khru gang ba long
tang gi mig sogs skye mched dod pa ‘gro ba la rings pa ‘dra ba zhig bcos pa’i lto bar sngar gyi
‘khor lo’i rdza phor de nyid steng ‘og ma log par bcug/ mig tu raṃ dmar po/ rna bar yaṃ ljang
gu/ sna la khaṃ dkar po/ lce la laṃ ser po/ snying gar aḥ sngon po rnams shog bur bris pa dril
te bcug.
63. These subrituals are found in many other Tantric rituals: for example, in con-
secration ritual; see, for example, Yale Bentor, “Literature on Consecration,” in Cabezón
and Jackson, Tibetan Literature, 290–311; and “The Horse-Back Consecration Ritual,” in
Lopez, Religions of Tibet in Practice, 234–54.
64. See Gter slob mkhan ming ‘dul ‘dzin (Gter slob karma ratna), Rgyal po’i thugs
dam mdo bcu la sogs la bsten pa’i ‘chi bslu ‘chi bdag zhags gcod ye shes ral gri (Wisdom Sword
Cutting the Lasso of the Lord of Death: A Death Deceiving [Ritual] Based on the Ten King
Sūtras and Others), in Brgya bzhi sdong brgyan kha ‘bar ma rnams kyi mdos chog la nye bar
mkho ba’i bdag mdun bskyed chog: Collected Rituals of the Rnying-ma-pa and Ris med tradi-
tions for Use in Funerals, Death Ransoming, and Averting Ceremonies, etc. (Byllakuppe:
Pema Norbu Rinpoche, 1985).
65. The four immeasurables (tshad med bzhi) are compassion (snying rje), love
(byams pa), joy (dga’ ba), and impartiality (btang snyoms).
128 tibetan ritual

66. The ten king sūtras are: (1) Bzang po spyod pa’i smon lam gyi mdo, (2) Rdo rje
rnam ‘joms khrus kyi mdo, (3) Shes rab snying po lta ba’i mdo, (4) ‘Da’ ka ye shes sgom pa’i
mdo, (5) Bya ba ltung bshags bshags pa’i mdo, (6) Phag tu med pa tshe ring mdo, (7) Gos
sngon can ni gzungs kyi mdo, (8) Gtsug tor gdugs dkar bzlog pa’i mdo, (9) Nor rgyun ma ni
nor gyi mdo, and (10) Yi ge gcig ma snying po’i mdo.
67. Zhu chen Tshul khrims rin chen, ‘Byung ba lnga’i tsha tsha bskrun pa’i mchod
sbyin la brten pa’i ‘chi bslu’i cho ga grub pa’i zhal lung ‘dab brgya ‘grol byed (Liberating the
Lotus: Oral Instruction for the Performance of a Deceiving Death Ritual Based upon the
Offering of Molding Tsha tsha of the Five Elements) in his Gsung ‘bum, reproduced from
Luding Rinpoche’s exemplar of the Gsung ‘bum (New Delhi: B. Jamyang Norbu, 1972),
vol. 6, 319–37.
68. The mudrās described here are the classical mudrās of the Five Buddhas (sangs
rgyas rigs lnga).
69. Zhu chen Tshul khrims rin chen, ‘Byung ba lnga (Liberating the Lotus), ff.
322.1–324.1: de nas thog mar tsha tsha rab tu gnas pa’i phyir/ tsha tsha lha sngags zlos shing
yungs dkar gyis brab ste bgegs bskrad/ ji ltar bltams pa sogs sngags dang bcas pas khrus byas
la/ oṃ sva bhāva sogs kyis tsha tsha rnams stong par sbyangs/ chos kun stong pa’i ngang nyid
las/ seng khri padma zla ba’i steng/ oṃ las ‘khor lo oṃ gyis mtshan/ de las rnam par snang
mdzad dkar/ byang chub mchog gi phyag rgya can/ sna tshogs dar dang rin chen brgyan/
zhabs gnyis rdo rje skyil krung bzhugs/ de nyid yongs su gyur pa las/ chos sku’i mchod rten
mtshan nyid rdzogs/ mchod rten rnams kyi bum pa’i nang/ dbus su seng ge shar glang chen/
shor rta nub tu rma bya dang/ byang du mkha’ lding bteg pa’i khrir/ padma zla ba’i ‘dab lnga
la/ dbus su oṃ las rnam snang dkar/ byang chub mchog gi phyag rgya can/ shar du hūṃ mi
bskyod pa/ sngon po sa gnon mnyam gzhag can/ lho ru tāṃ las rin ‘byung ser/ mchog sbyin
mnyam gzhag phyag rgya mdzad/ nub tu hrī las ‘od dpag med/ dmar po phyag gnyis mnyam
gzhag can/ byang du a las don yod grub/ ljang gu skyabs sbyin mnyam gzhag can/ kun kyang
dar dang rin chen brgyan/ zhabs gnyis rdo rje’i skyil krung bzhugs/ kun gyi mtha’ skor sangs
rgyas dang/ [byang chub] sems dpa’i tshogs kyis bskor bar gyur/ kun gyi gnas gsum oṃ āḥ
hūṃ/ hūṃ las ‘od ‘phro la rigs lnga la/ rgyal ba sras bcas kyis bskor ba/? tshur byon ba dzra
sa mā dzaḥ dzaḥ hūṃ baṃ hoḥ sa dbyer med thim / bum nang lha tshogs thams cad kyi/
dpral bar oṃ las ‘khor lo oṃ/ mgrin par āḥ las padmar āḥ/ thugs dkar hūṃ las rdo rje hūṃ/
[. . .] mchod pa snyod bya ba ni/ rgyal ba sras bcas thams cad la/ mchod yon zhabs bsil me tog
sbos/ mar me dri bshos rol mos mchod/ bzhes nas sems can don mdzad gsol.
70. Mkha’ khyab rdo rje, Chi ba bslu ba’i cho ga mdor bsdus pa ‘chi bdag g.yul ‘joms
(Quelling the Lord of Death: An Abbreviated Death Deceiving Ritual), in Rgyal dbang mkha’
khyab rdo rje’i bka’ ‘bum (Paro: Lama Ngodrup, 1979–81), vol. 14, ff. 124.6–125.1: ‘byung
po stobs chen khyed rnams kyi/ sngon tshe dpal chen he ru ka’i/ spyan sngar khas blangs dam
bcas ltar/ dam las ma ‘da’ sa ma ya/ gal te dam las ‘das gyur na/ khyod kyi mthu rtsal nyams
par ‘gyur.
71. Mkha’ khyab rdo rje, ‘Chi bdag g.yul ‘joms, ff. 125.4–126.6: ‘chi bdag gshin rje
rgyal po dang/ steng ‘og bar gsum ‘byung po rnams/ dar gcig rnal ‘byor bdag la gson/ [. . .] glud
kyi ‘gyung gnas ‘byung ba lnga/ khams lnga phung po skye mched tshang/ mi yi sha khrag lus
po las/ khyad par du mas ‘phags pa’i glud/ [. . .] bzhes nas rnal ‘byor bdag cag dang/ rgyu sbyor
yon bdag ‘khor bcas rnams/ bzung ba thongs la bcings pa khrol/ [. . .] zhal zas bshos bu mar
 CHILU : rituals for “deceiving death” 129

me rnams/ lam rgyags lta bur bzhes nas su/ shul ring mgron po ma dal cig/ mtha’ med rgya
mtsho’i pha rol du/ da lta nyid du ‘gro bar gyis.
72. Zhu chen Tshul khrims rin chen, ‘Byung ba lnga (Liberating the Lotus), vol. 6,
ff. 332.4–5: ‘byung lnga glud kyi ngar mi ‘di/ zhal bzang spyan bzang gos kyang bzang/
chang bu sha rjen bza’ ba sogs/ ‘dod yon longs spyod ri ltar spungs/ ting ‘dzin sngags kyis rgya
cher spel/ deng ‘dir che ge mo zhes pa’i/ tshe dang srog gi glud du ‘bul/ glud ‘di longs la tshe
srog byin/ bzung ba thong la bcings pa khrol/ phyin chad gnod pa ma byed cig.
73. Rngog Blo dlan shes rab, Kha ‘bar ma nag mo’i ‘chi bslu bsdus pa (“An Abbreviated
Death Deceiving Ritual of the Black [Goddess] Flaming Mouth”) (Sukhia Pokhari, 1996).
74. Rngog Blo dlan shes rab, Kha ‘bar ma nag mo’i ‘chi bslu, 1.6–2.2: ‘chi bdag gshin
rje’i ‘jigs pa bzlog slad du/ kha ‘bar rgyal mo’i sku sprul gshegs su gsol/ ‘dod yon lnga ldan gtor
ma rgya chen dang/ theb kyu ril bu chang bu gzugs glud bcas/ sha khrag dmar gyis brgyan
pa’i mchod pa ‘di/ kha ‘bar rgyal mo ‘khor dang bcas la ‘bul.
75. Rngog Blo dlan shes rab, Kha ‘bar ma nag mo’i ‘chi bslu, 3.1–3: ‘di rngog pa’i sras
mo ha lo ma sku snyung ba’i tshe rngog rin po ches lha mo la gus pas cher bskul ba’i tshe lha
mo’i ‘chi bslu ‘di myur bar gyis gsungs/ de ltar bgyis pas lcam ‘chi ba las sos/ khyod gang ‘dra
byung smras pas mi dmar po gcig gis lho phyogs tsher ma’i thang zhig tu khrid byung bas/ bu
mo sngo sangs ma zhig slebs byung nas nga dang khyod lam nor log gsungs pas mkhar gyi
nang du bskyal ba rmis pas dran pa sos byung zer ro.
This page intentionally left blank
6
Representations of Efficacy
The Ritual Expulsion of Mongol Armies in the
Consolidation and Expansion of the Tsang
(Gtsang) Dynasty

james gentry

Most Tibetan Buddhist ritual is premised on the intimate contigu-

ity between persons, landscapes, and hosts of landscape spirits of all
kinds.1 Such contiguity assumes that human bodies, habitations, and
settlements are impinged upon by the nonhuman forces that sur-
round and inhabit them. Safeguarding the health and integrity of the
corporate entities of human body, household, and community from
the threats posed by contact with the capricious spirit world thus con-
stitutes a major preoccupation for Tibetan Buddhist ritual specialists.
Clergy have at their disposal a repertoire of ritual treatments to subju-
gate these threatening presences, exorcise them from the precincts of
body, home, or territory, and restore internal health and cohesion.
Ritual exorcism, or dogpa (zlog pa), “that which turns back, out, or
away,” is one of the most popular Tibetan Buddhist ritual forms enacted
for this purpose.2 In addition to their performance for a single individual
or community, the function of exorcism rites to protect against, or drive
away, the dangerous impurities of contiguous entities, and to thereby
consolidate corporate boundaries has had clear geopolitical ramifications
as well. With the emergence of a shared Tibetan ethnic and cultural iden-
tity rooted in Tibet’s imperial past,3 foreign armies threatening Tibetan
territories were often interpreted in terms analogous to demonic pos-
session. To confront such martial threats, Tibet’s ritual specialists fre-
quently performed countrywide exorcisms, thus giving rise to the ritual
subgenre of army expelling rites, or magdog (dmag zlog).4
132 tibetan ritual

The ostensible reason for such rituals was to “protect the doctrine” (bstan
srung), or in other words, to preserve the geopolitical integrity of Tibet so that
Buddhist institutions could thrive there unabated. And in addition to such con-
servative, protective functions, the ritualized expulsion of armies entailed the
clear demarcation of territorial boundaries, and consequently can also be under-
stood as a factor that contributed to the formation of a strong sense of com-
munal, corporate identity. The pervasiveness of army averting rites in Tibetan
Buddhist polities from the period of the Tibetan empire to the present5 thus
seems to indicate, among other things, that these rituals have performed a vital
symbolic function in the construction and reaffirmation of Tibetan Buddhist
state configurations.
Since the thirteenth century, Mongol armies frequently posed the most
dangerous military threat to Tibetan survival. Outnumbered and overpowered,
Tibetan political leaders often commissioned ritual specialists to supplement
more conventional means of national defense with the magical protection
promised by magdog rites. It is well known, for instance, that the rulers of the
Tsang (Gtsang) dynasty (1565–1642) maintained very close connections with
a number of important sectarian leaders, most notably the lamas of the Kar-
gyü (Bka’ brgyud), Jonang (Jo nang), and Sakya (Sa skya) schools, who regu-
larly administered to the state’s ritual needs.6 The Nyingmapa figure Sogdogpa
Lodrö Gyaltsen (Sog bzlog pa Blo gros rgyal mtshan, 1552–1624) was also par-
ticularly active during this period in driving Mongol forces from Tibet via mag-
dog rites, as his nickname, “the one who repelled” (bzlog pa) “Mongols” (sog7)
attests. In his text, the History of How the Mongols Were Turned Back (Sog bzlog
bgyis tshul gyi lo rgyus8), Sogdogpa narrates his own thirty-two-year endeavor
to rid Tibet of Mongol forces based on his guru Tertön Zhigpo Lingpa’s (Gter
ston Zhig po gling pa, 1524–83) treasure cycle, Twenty-five Ways of Averting
Armies (Dmag bzlog nyer lnga). In a style that is part autobiography and part his-
tory, Sogdogpa candidly relates his self-proclaimed ritual success story as the
culmination of Tibet’s historic struggle with Mongol military intervention, and
the many attempts of Tibet’s leading ritual specialists to address such threats.
The existence of a history cum autobiography authored by a Buddhist cleric
to demonstrate his successful performance of rituals intended to expel or kill
invading foreign armies elicits a host of deeply perplexing questions that are
not easy to resolve. Leaving aside for now a discussion of this text’s most strik-
ing feature, namely, its seeming advocacy of rituals that violate the fundamen-
tal Buddhist tenet of nonviolence, let us turn instead to the issue of how these
kinds of rituals were believed to function. Sogdogpa narrates that his rituals
actually “worked” to produce the desired “outcome” of ridding Tibet of Mongol
invaders. But what were the notions of efficacy underlying Sogdogpa’s account?
 representations of efficacy 133

In other words, how, precisely, did Sogdogpa represent the workings of his
rituals, what were the various effects that he attributed to them, and what, by
promoting their efficacy in writing, did he hope to achieve?
This chapter represents an initial foray into this set of questions through
an analysis of Sogdogpa’s depiction of events in the History. An examination
into issues related to ritual efficacy is both amply rewarded and significantly
complicated by a close reading of Sogdogpa’s account. Sogdogpa is concerned
throughout the History to present his rituals as powerful, magical manipula-
tions of the cosmos done for tangible geopolitical ends. And as part of this
presentation, Sogdogpa also obliquely implies a number of social and political
functions for his rites, such as the power to consolidate and fragment resources,
populations and territories, functions which seem to have more to do with the
social, economic, and political power of ritual actions to produce a sense of
solidarity among participants and patrons in the creation or affirmation of a
bounded corporate identity.
As a first step toward determining how Sogdogpa might have understood
all of these diverse elements as part and parcel of his ritual workings, I attempt
to delineate the component features of the History’s ritual episodes. In particu-
lar, I hope to demonstrate how Sogdogpa represented the efficacy of his rituals
through an elaborate interpretative process in which he linked his ritual per-
formances to geopolitical events, prophecy texts, meditation signs, and dreams.
I argue that it is through the strategic combination of these public and private
discourses of meaning on the pages of the History that Sogdogpa locates him-
self at the center of interpretive authority, thus enabling him to claim ultimate
responsibility for some of the most pivotal political events that transpired dur-
ing his lifetime, including the unification of Tsang (west central Tibet) under
the Tsang Desi (Gtsang sde srid)9 and the expansion of Tsang Desi power into
Ü (Dbus, central Tibet) and beyond. I close with a presentation of five of the
most significant ritual episodes related to the rise and spread of Tsang Desi
rule, illustrating how Sogdogpa further develops his interpretative authority
through the act of designating diverse social and political events as outcomes
of his own ritual proceedings.

The Blurred Genre of Ritual Memoir: Personal Reflections,

Collective Histories, Prophesied Lives

The Tibetan term logyü (lo rgyus),10 often translated as “history,” which appears
in the title of The History of How the Mongols Were Turned Back (Sog bzlog bgyis
tshul gyi lo rgyus), is a broad genre label for any narrative account of something’s
134 tibetan ritual

or someone’s past. In this instance, however, Sogdogpa explicitly frames his nar-
rative through its opening verses as though it is an autobiography, and indeed,
the final half of the History is Sogdogpa’s own autobiographical account of his
thirty-two-year ritual career of expelling Mongol armies from Tibet through rit-
ual sorcery.11 Moreover, given that the author’s popular nickname, Sogdogpa,
“the one who turned back the Mongols,” was acquired through the execution
of such rituals, the title self-refers to Sogdogpa the figure as much as it refers
to the wider historical phenomenon of turning back Mongols through sorcery.
The title thus resonates on the registers of personal autobiography and collec-
tive history with equal weight. The title might even alternatively be rendered as
The Story of How I Turned Back the Mongols, or more loosely, The Story of How
I Became Sogdogpa.
The fluidity witnessed here between narratives of collective historical events
(lo rgyus) and autobiographical records of personal past events (rang gi rnam
thar) also reflects an essential feature of Sogdogpa’s legitimacy as a ritual expert,
namely, the role of prophesies in authenticating Sogdogpa’s personal role as
the rightful heir to a military sorcery campaign foretold by Padmasambhava
(b. eighth century) and enacted over the centuries in times of need.12 Prophe-
cies that were presumably first articulated and concealed by Padmasambhava
and Yeshé Tsogyal (Ye shes mtsho rgyal) (b. eighth century) in the form of trea-
sures (gter ma) were excavated and touted by later figures as guides for deter-
mining the proper times and places of foreign military invasions, and most
importantly, the requisite persons and actions capable of preventing, or delay-
ing such events, or at least mitigating damage.13 Thus, the proper interpretation
and implementation of treasure prophecies is central to how Sogdogpa repre-
sents his army repelling rituals as doing what they are intended to do.
The logic of how prophecies connect historical and personal events is
explicit in the structure and content of the History. The only available edition
of the text is divided into two main chapters: “previous lifetimes” (sngon byung
ba yin pa’i skyes rabs: 206.1–217.3), and “stages of how it was done” (ji ltar bgyis
pa’i rim pa: 217.3–259.6). Recounting past lives is a typical opening maneuver
in Tibetan autobiographical writing. Here however, rather than relate elabo-
rate details, Sogdogpa only makes cursory mention of his recognition as the
speech incarnation of the translator Nyag (Gnyags) Jñānakumara (b. eighth
century), who was in turn a reincarnation of king Songtsen Gampo’s (Srong
btsan sgam po, seventh century) minister of internal affairs, Nachenpo (Sna
chen po, seventh century).
Then, with little transition, he shifts into a detailed account (207.3–217.3)
of his unwilling reception of treasure revealer Zhigpo Lingpa’s injunction to
lead the ritual expulsion of prophesied Mongol military advances via Zhigpo
 representations of efficacy 135

Lingpa’s treasure ritual cycle, the Twenty-five Ways of Averting Armies (Dmag
bzlog nyer lnga). This ten-folio section presents a rich guru–disciple dialogue
in which Zhigpo Lingpa relates several prophecies, personal visionary expe-
riences, and arguments to counter Sogdogpa’s reluctance to shoulder the
immense responsibility of confronting one of most ferocious military powers
on earth.
This conversation with Sogdogpa, otherwise known as the healer (‘tsho
byed) of Dongkar (Gdong mkhar/dkar),14 is set within the context of Sogdogpa’s
medical and ritual treatment of Zhigpo Lingpa for what would prove to be a
fatal illness. In the course of the treatment, Zhigpo Lingpa reveals through the
presentation and interpretation of prophecy texts that Sogdogpa is none other
than the reincarnation of Gewa Bum (Dge ba ‘bum, b. twelfth century),15 the
famed physician whose reincarnation was prophesied by Padmasambhava to
be an instrumental figure in repelling invading Mongol armies.16 Sogdogpa
expresses some skepticism about his newfound identity, but upon realizing that
Zhigpo Lingpa’s request is indeed his dying guru’s final wish, he promises to
fulfill the role of protector and departs. Zhigpo Lingpa dies shortly thereafter.
The second chapter, “Stages of How it Was Done,” consists of three sub-
sections divided according to a threefold periodization of Mongol intervention
in Tibet. Sogdogpa states that this threefold schema is based on a prophecy
text which describes three occasions throughout the history of Tibet–Mongolia
interactions in which Mongol armies attempt to invade Tibet.
The first subsection of this chapter (217.3–219.4) shifts from the autobio-
graphical mode of the first chapter to describe the history of the first Mongol
invasion of Tibet during the final two decades of the thirteenth century, and how
Tibet’s powerful ritual experts responded to the crisis.17 The second subsection,
which describes the second Mongol threat to Tibet, relates events that purport-
edly transpired during the final few years of treasure revealer Pema Lingpa’s
(Padma gling pa, 1450–1521) lifetime and the decade following his passing.
This brief section (219.6–228.3) provides much detail concerning Pema Ling-
pa’s instrumental role in interpreting various prophecy texts to warn of an
impending Mongol invasion. Just prior to his death, Pema Lingpa passed the
responsibility for preventing this disaster to his close disciple Chogden Gönpo
(Mchog ldan mgon po, 1497–1557). The section goes on to describe Chogden
Gönpo’s failure to garner the requisite support for success. Pema Lingpa’s
injunction to repell the Mongols thus fell to Pema Lingpa’s son, Dawa Gyaltsen
(Zla ba rgyal mtshan, 1499–1587), who managed to accomplish all the proph-
esied activities except for the final, most important one—leaving his remains
at Zabpu Lung (Zab bu lung).18 Alternatively, Sogdogpa narrates that another
source reports the performance of rites by Ngari Pan ·chen (Mnga’ ris pan
·chen)
136 tibetan ritual

and the Rigdzin Chenpo (Rigs ‘dzin chen po) brothers, students of Chogden
Gönpo, thus pushing pack the arrival of Mongol forces several years.
The series of events reported in this second subsection, and especially the
dates of the figures involved, enables Sogdogpa to seamlessly connect his chrono-
logical narrative with the third and final period of Mongol threat, his own lifetime.
In the third subsection, Sogdogpa switches back into a candid autobiographical
style to relate his own thirty-two-year ritual endeavor dedicated to driving Mongol
military forces from Tibet. This thirty-one-folio (228.3–259.6) memoir begins in
1583, when at 32 years of age Sogdogpa was first charged with performing the
Twenty-five Army Ways of Averting Armies, and ends in 1614, when, at age 63, Sog-
dogpa led a group ritual which buried an entire army of Mongols under snow,
and by Sogdogpa’s account, ended Mongol violence in Tibet for the time being.19
The memoir thus provides a chronological record of approximately twenty army-
averting ritual episodes that he performed between the years of 1583 and 1614.
With some variation, each episode includes a date, prophecy, place, correspond-
ing contemporary event, ritual response, names of ritual specialists, participants,
and sponsors, as well as successes and/or failures. The text closes with a calcula-
tion of the resources and materials that Sogdogpa himself expended toward the
project; a list of political and religious figures who either did not follow through
with pledges to contribute, or rejected the project outright; and gratitude in the
form of a list to everyone who contributed in various ways.
Turning briefly to the rituals themselves, the ritual cycle that Sogdogpa
performs in his autobiographical section of the History, the Twenty-five Ways of
Averting Armies, is said to have been revealed by Zhigpo Lingpa in 1544 at Eagle
Nest Rock (Khyung tshang brag).20 The Twenty-five Ways consists of twenty-five
techniques, each of which, when performed according to prophecies dictating
who, where, and when to perform them, were thought to be capable of repel-
ling advancing foreign armies from Tibet. To my knowledge, all that remains
of this treasure cycle is a collection of five texts now found in the Rinchen Ter-
dzö (Rin chen gter mdzod) collection.21 Although these five documents represent
only a fraction of the textual materials that Sogdogpa is said to have received
from Zhigpo Lingpa, they nonetheless offer valuable insight into the nature of
the rituals concerned. The first text in the collection, the Sequenced Classifica-
tion of Means for Averting a Whole Regiment, from the Twenty-five Ways of Averting
Armies (Dmag zlog nyi shu rtsa lnga las spyi ru zlog thabs kyi rim pa sde tshan du
byas pa22), lists the twenty-five means as follows:

1–3. Repelling by supplicating lamas, tutelary deities, and ḍākiṇīs

4. Repelling through white mustard seed
5. Repelling through spells
6. Repelling through construction (bcas)
 representations of efficacy 137

7. Repelling through the practice of Yamāntaka and Vajrakīlāya

8. Repelling an army, compelling it with magical substances in water
(chu la rdzas kyis ngar blud de zlog pa)
9. Repelling an army with magical substances
10–13. Repelling through yé (yas)23 materials (zang zing yas), mdos rituals,
burnt offerings, and magical torma weapons (gtor zor)
14. Repelling through controlling the elements
15. Repelling through three mantrins of degenerate tantric commit-
ments24
16. Repelling through three [mantrins] of nondegenerate tantric com-
mitments
17. Repelling through three monks of degenerate monastic discipline
18. Repelling through three [monks] of nondegenerate [monastic
discipline]
19. Repelling with a wand of invisibility (sgrib shing) [over] the valley
20. Pith instruction for the regional guardian (yul ‘khor srung gi man ngag)
21. Protecting the country doing the practice of Hayagrīva (rta mgrin)
22. Subduing gods and demons in order to make them paralyze troops
(dmag dpung jag ‘ching) and cut off their route
23. Crumpling a paper effigy of a general (dmag dpon yig gcu pa)
24. Repelling through resounding the enlightened speech of dharma
25. Repelling through enforcing a ban on hunting and fishing, and
through practicing.25

A detailed analysis of each item would lead us too far afield. At a glance it
can be noticed that the list of twenty-five ways consists of a variety of activi-
ties and ritual types, several of which—the supplication of lamas, tutelary dei-
ties, and ḍākiṇīs, and the propitiation of the fierce Buddhist deities Yamāntaka,
Vajrakīlāya, and Hayagrīva, for instance—are ordinary dharma practices yoked
here to specifically martial ends. Indeed, the list seems to include anything and
everything thought to be capable of successfully repelling armies, down to even
the meritorious act of restoring and constructing sacred architecture. Yet, as
we shall see, determining whether or not these rituals hit their intended mark
was no simple matter.

The Logic of Efficacy: Reading Events, Interpreting Signs,

and Writing Outcomes

It is immediately clear from just the title of Sogdogpa’s text alone, The History
of How the Mongols Were Turned Back, that a central concern in its authorship
138 tibetan ritual

was to present a persuasive account of the efficacy of the rituals concerned,

and the power of the actors involved. The rhetorical thrust of Sogdogpa’s nar-
rative is especially evident in his autobiographical account, where in episode
after episode, he consistently attributes to his performance of the twenty-five
means, the destruction, rerouting, or impeding of Mongol armies and warlords
encroaching upon Tibetan territories. Yet, when investigating such accounts
further, Sogdogpa appears to be just as concerned with demonstrating his
interpretative authority to adjudicate the matter of ritual efficacy as he is with
establishing the workings of the particular rituals concerned.
A closer look into the literary mechanisms by which Sogdogpa attempted
to demonstrate that military events were the outcomes of his rites reveals a
number of elements at work. First, as noted earlier, each episode in Sogdog-
pa’s autobiographical account includes a date, prophecy, place, corresponding
geopolitical event, ritual response, names of ritual specialists, participants and
sponsors, and the dreams and/or signs of success that occurred in the context
of ritual performances. Second, Sogdogpa carefully structures all these ele-
ments into a fivefold sequence that reflects the complex interpretative proce-
dure through which he gave literary expression to the efficacy of his rites. This
fivefold sequence proceeds as follows: (1) interpretation of a passage from a
prophecy text in light of contemporary events, (2) appropriate ritual perfor-
mance, (3) resultant signs and/or dreams, or lack thereof, (4) interpretation
of signs and/or dreams, and (5) coordination of signs, dreams and prophecies
with geopolitical events as ritual outcomes. Clearly then, ritual effects do not
unambiguously follow from ritual performances without mediation. Rather,
such outcomes emerge from an intersection of textual interpretations, group
ritual performances, communal sensory experiences, private dreams, and
semiotic operations in which public and private, discursive and embodied prac-
tices converge to produce the gestalt of ritual success. Furthermore, it should
be noted that this memoir is the principle medium through which Sogdogpa
worked out the precise terms of these correspondences. Thus, the designation
of events as “outcomes” has everything to do with Sogdogpa’s retrospective
formulation and presentation of these events in writing.
Perhaps it is the function of prophecy texts in Sogdogpa’s memoir which
best epitomizes the hybrid, intertextual quality of his narrative. Tibetan Bud-
dhists often represent all of history as a sprawling narrative that unfolds accord-
ing to the prophecies that the Indian Buddhist master Padmasambhava hid
within Tibetan soil; these are found in texts left for destined disciples in future
incarnations to uncover and interpret anew according to specific contextual exi-
gencies. Tibetan prophecy texts are therefore marked by an equal measure of
cultural authority and textual ambiguity, thus enabling successive generations
 representations of efficacy 139

of Tibetans to interpret diverse contemporary events and legitimate their spe-

cific reactions to them in light of an ever-compelling cultural script. Yet, since
Tibetan Buddhist prophecies are also often rich in specific personal details
and events concerning the lives and contexts of the “future” incarnations of
individuals, they might be productively construed as biographical and auto-
biographical writings specifically concerned with future histories.26 Thus, as
communal narratives (which nonetheless partake of an autobiographical and/
or biographical character) prophecies are an ideal medium through which to
bring private lives into the public sphere and appropriate public discourses to
serve personal ends. It is little wonder then that Sogdogpa consistently uses
the forum of prophecy to articulate and legitimate his ritual actions, signs and
dreams in the public arena of his memoir. Indeed, communal Tibetan prophe-
cies serve for Sogdogpa as the cultural matrix of significations through which
he constructs the public ramifications of his personal actions, and in turn per-
sonalizes prophecies that concern the entire Tibetan public.
The importance of prophecies for Sogdogpa in legitimating the outcomes
of his rituals is explicit in the opening episode of the History’s first chapter,
and in the opening passages of the autobiographical section of the History’s
second chapter. In both sections, Sogdogpa narrates Zhigpo Lingpa’s lengthy
explanations of personal prophetic visionary experiences along with his inter-
pretations of the prophetic visions of Sangyé Lingpa (Sangs rgyas gling pa,
1340–96) and Pema Lingpa in demonstrating the urgency of turning back the
Mongols during Sogdogpa’s generation, as well as Sogdogpa’s necessary role
in this endeavor. These passages relate how Zhigpo Lingpa correlated his and
others’ prophecies to reflect a single coherent message, and thus offer consid-
erable insight into the knotty process of prophecy interpretation. To give a taste
of how these prophecies predict a general scenario of ritual efficacy, here is a
section of a prophecy from Pema Lingpa’s All-Illuminating Mirror (Kun gsal me
long),27 which Zhigpo Lingpa cites to convince Sogdogpa of his necessary role
in turning back Mongol armies:

At that time, by the power of the great merit of sentient beings and
The Buddha-dharma not being extinguished,
One with the name of Space (nam mkha’) will arouse the
circumstancial cause, and
One with the name of Famous (grags pa) will act as patron.
An ārya, who is an emanation of Songtsen Yulzung (Srong btsan yul
zung),
And a healer, who is the [re-]birth of the doctor Gebum (Dge ‘bum),
With an emanation of myself assisting them,
140 tibetan ritual

Will, having gathered all the materials, perform burnt offerings.

They will focus intently on the tsen/gong (btsan/’gong) red Yamshü
(Yam shud).28
Within the skulls of nine murdered Chinese generals
Will be inserted the effigies (ling ga) of nine demon generals.29
These should be burried underneath Śākyamūni.30

This prophecy provides only the barest information in the form of general
names and vague descriptions of events. And even when Zhigpo Lingpa con-
sulted other prophecies to provide dates and more complete descriptions of
places and events, the phrasing is, at best, ambiguous. In the end, Zhigpo
Lingpa correlated this passage with other passages that specify dates and other
temporal clues to interpret the “one with the name Famous” as the political
leader of Bang-khar (Bang mkhar), which judging from descriptions in the
History, was in Uyug (‘U yug) valley north of the Brahmaputra river; the “ema-
nation of Songtsen Yulzung,” one of Srong btsan sgam po’s chief ministers, as
Zhigpo Lingpa himself; and the “rebirth of Gebum,” the famed twelfth-century
physician and protector of Lhasa from flood waters, as Sogdogpa—a triad that
Zhigpo Lingpa insisted must work together to ensure the aversion of Mongol
armies through sorcery.
In this vein, the History reports that Zhigpo Lingpa’s authoritative,
interpretative acumen, and visionary insight enabled his tersely phrased
collection of prophecy texts to function for Sogdogpa as a loose discursive
map that provided crucial guidance throughout his ritual career on when,
where, with whom, and how to avert Mongol forces. It must be recalled,
however, that in order for successive generation to use and reuse prophe-
cies for divergent purposes within differing contexts, prophecy texts must
retain a certain degree of ambiguity. Sogdogpa’s narration of Zhigpo Ling-
pa’s interpretative work thus leaves multiple lacunae that resist precise
identification.
Textual citations from relevant prophecy texts also appear in nearly every
ritual episode within Sogdogpa’s autobiographical section. These passages are
used in two primary ways. First, as just noted, they are presented as provid-
ing Sogdogpa with loose guidelines on when, where, with whom, and how to
perform the appropriate rituals. In keeping with their nebulous character, pas-
sages here only give years according to the duodenary calendrical cycle, rather
than the more specific years of the sexegenary cycle (i.e., dog year as opposed
to iron dog year), and only include laconic descriptions of military and political
events, and vague or general place names and geographical descriptions, thus
allowing Sogdogpa significant interpretive latitude.
 representations of efficacy 141

The second major function of prophecies is to legitimate ritual outcomes,

the ultimate litmus test of ritual efficacy by Sogdogpa’s account being whether
or not events corroborate authoritative prophecies—whether or not negative
or positive events reported in prophecies “came to pass” (thog tu khel). Rituals
therefore “work,” according to Sogdogpa, when they have been executed in
accordance with specifications outlined in prophecies, and when later events
corroborate those guiding prophecies.
Sogdogpa’s uses of prophecies can perhaps better be understood through
turning to their occurrence in the ritual episodes themselves. The manner
in which Sogdogpa cites prophecies in connection with ritual performances,
signs and dreams, and geopolitical events to interpret ritual outcomes is well-
illustrated in the following two episodes, which are reported as having occurred
ten years apart:

1. It is stated in the prophecy of Gyalwa Düpa (Rgyal ba ‘dus pa):31

In the Fire-Female-Pig [year], a Hor32 army will come to Tibet.
Initially, it will mete out suffering to Drigung (‘Bri[gung]) and
Taglung (Stag[lung]).

Accordingly, when many Mongol troops led by one called Khathasu

arrived that Pig year (1587), they rushed from Oyug33 up to Nyugda.34
At that time, I had no aquaintance with the one from Bangkhar
(bang mkhar nas). [I] restored the stūpa at Dro (‘Bro) [and] threw
several thread-cross tormas (mdos gtor). Having performed the final
rite of the lord of life,35 there was a positive sign (rtags mtshan bzang)
and I had a dream vision (rmi lam mthong) that pleasant news would
soon come. Autumn of that [year], according to the words of the
leader (sde pa) Bönpö Lapa (Bon po’i La pa), who had returned [from
the east]:

In China, several of the Mongol petty kings and ministers (sog po’i
rgyal blon) were mass poisoned (dug yoms), had diarrhea (‘khrus)
of several animals, such as frogs, snakes, scorpions, and so forth,
then died. At Mang Kölwa (Mang bskol ba), several divine hand
emblems, such as flesh cutting blades, and so forth, emerged
from within the boils of Gyagmi Rajang Wong’s (Rgyag mi=rgya
mi? Ra byang’ong) body, and he died. There is a great commo-
tion [there] that these [events] were due to the sorcery of Tibetan
dharma communities.

Beyond this, nothing happened. However, in Nyidé Gyachen (Nyi zla’i

rgya can)36 it is said:
142 tibetan ritual

Then, in the Fire-Female-Pig year, Hor troops will burst forth.

At that [time], one with the name of Rigdzin Trashi (Rigs’dzin
Bkra shis), who abides on the [bodhisattva] levels, will appear in
Uruzho (Dbu ru gzho). He will turn them back.

Thus, accordingly, Drigung Zhabdrung37 gathered the choicest roasted

barley in his jurisdiction, and yarn and sticks for thread-cross rites
(mdos), and turned back [the army]. Thus,’Bri[gung] and Stag[lung]
incurred no damage. Neither could [the army] severely harm the lands
of Shangs,38 ‘O [yug] and so forth, as several men and horses died dur-
ing their return journey.

2. Then, as related in the [prophetic] statement:

In the Fire-Monkey and Rooster [years] there will be fighting in Tö,39

Khathan’s army reached Mü,40 Purang,41 Karbum (Dkar dum), Lowo,42

Mya Shug Tro (Rmya shug khro), Tesé,43 Latö,44 Jang,45 and so forth.
It sacked the [people of] Dolpo,46 Nagtsang,47 Pönpo (Dpon po) and so
forth.

That year (1596) I initiated the Great Means of Averting of Armies

(Sog bzlog chen mo). Consequently, I dreamt that a voice ordered the
Mongols who were advancing from Ngari in Tö48 up to Gyalmorong
in Mé Dokham49 to turn back. Even though it had been prophecied
that during that year Sakya,50 Ngari, Dzongkha,51 and Jang Ngamring52
would be destroyed, the ritual aversion seemed to help; the Hor
Mongols then arrived in the vicinity of Drompa Gyang (Grom pa
rgyang), and despite having rushed from Zangzang Lhadrag53 all the
way to the upper end of Ngamring, no casualties were seen.54

A cursory analysis of these two passages reveals the following rationale at

work in Sogdogpa’s representations of ritual outcomes: First, to establish the
appropriate occasions to stage his rituals, Sogdogpa interprets contemporary
events in light of the duodenary years mentioned in the relevant prophecy
passages—the Pig year, and the Fire-Monkey and Rooster years, respec-
tively—and the vague descriptions of events foretold there. Sogdogpa then
mentions and sometimes describes the rituals he performed in response to
such events. He then notes the occurence of auspicious signs and/or dreams
in the context of his ritual performances as circumstantial evidence indicat-
ing ritual efficacy. Finally, he returns once again to the prophecy passages and
interprets contemporary events by their light to determine the final success
or failure of his ritual actions. To represent events as outcomes of rituals, he
 representations of efficacy 143

retrospectively connects these geopolitical events to their ostensive dreams,

signs, and prophecies.
Here, and throughout the memoir, “signs” refer to auspicious events that
occur in the context of ritual performances and function as indicators of ritual
efficacy. Far from unambiguous gauges of ritual success, signs require consid-
erable interpretation. Sometimes sign interpretation takes the form of reading
events in light of textual descriptions. On one occasion Sogdogpa notes that
“signs emerged exactly in accordance with the text.”55 And elsewhere, he ended
a ritual practice “once the signs explained in the text had appeared in full.”56
Often, however, the interpretation of signs is an event which gains legitimacy
through the consensus of the group of ritual participants. In one episode, Sog-
dogpa and six others performed fumigation rites and burnt offerings and “the
entire area was permeated with the stench of Mongols,” thus eliciting convic-
tion among everyone present in the success of the ritual.57 In two other epi-
sodes, the appearance of a skull of a fallen Mongol general and the discovery
of a geneaological record of leading Mongol warlords, both materials used in
the performance of effigy rites,58 are read by Sogdogpa as signs of the success
of previous rituals.
On more than one occasion, the public, consensual dimension of sign
interpretation opens up the possibilities for alternate, competing interpreta-
tions from a wider demographic than ritual specialists alone. In one episode,
Sogdogpa recounts the public denunctiation of the leader of Uyug by his citi-
zens for the leader’s sponsorship of a stūpa just prior to the onset of a coun-
trywide drought. The citizens of Uyug used the logic of sign interpretation
against their leader through positing a deliberate causal relationship between
the stūpa project and the natural disaster, and thereby accused their leader of
black magic.59 During another ritual, the security guards of the ritual enclosure
mistakenly interpreted a torma’s flaming wick as a sign that the ritual was suc-
cesful in killing the Mongol warlord Khathan.60
In each instance of what he considers to be sign misinterpretation, Sog-
dogpa provides for his readers the “correct” interpretation. Thus, when sign
interpretation becomes public domain, the text of the History itself serves as the
medium through which Sogdogpa makes the connections and sets the records
straight. And of course the “public domain” described in Sogdogpa’s narrative
is none other than the textual domain of his memoir, in which he publicly nar-
rativizes events through their careful selection and ordering, thereby affirming
once again his interpretive authority to adjudicate such matters.
Like signs, auspicious dreams that occur in the context of ritual perfor-
mances also serve as indicators of ritual efficacy. Needless to say, however,
Sogdogpa’s dreams differ from auspicious signs in being understood as
144 tibetan ritual

entirely private experiences. Perhaps owing to their private character, Sogdog-

pa’s dreams prove to be slightly more elusive for him than signs. On more than
one occasion, Sogdogpa struggles to make sense of his dreams in light of later
events. Once, he even doubts the authenticity of a potent visionary dream when
no event unfolds to corroborate it.61
More often than not, however, Sogdogpa reports and intreprets dreams to
demonstrate the efficacy of related rituals. Moreover, like signs, dream content
in the memoir is drawn largely from communal cultural meanings, thus strate-
gically enabling the discourse of private dream experiences to serve in authenti-
cating the efficacy of rituals in the public arena, and most significantly perhaps,
reaffirm Sogdogpa’s personal role as a vital and authoritative intermediary and
interpreter of events with public, and even statewide importance.
To move full circle, signs and dreams, and indeed also the rituals that elicit
them, gain significance throughout Sogdogpa’s memoir within the context of
an overarching vision of Tibetan history as an ever-unfolding drama foretold in
prophetic revelations. Signs and dreams here provide the critical epistemologi-
cal link between ritual performances and prophesied events, thus enabling geo-
political events to be interpreted as ritual effects. However, it should be noted
that signs and dreams are common indicators of ritual efficacy in Tibetan Bud-
dhist ritual proceedings even when rituals have no explicit connection with
prophecies. The memoir, which situates rituals and their outcomes within the
prophetic narrative of Tibet’s ongoing struggles with Mongol violence, there-
fore casts signs and dreams in a slightly different light. In other words, Sog-
dogpa’s signs and dreams, as provisional suggestions of ritual success sensible
to only himself or his immediate circle are meaningful indicators of ritual out-
comes only in relation to the collective prophecies that concern the Tibetan
populace as a whole. Linking signs and dreams with prophecies thus serves
as an instrument enabling Sogdogpa to promote the authority of his personal
experiences, and thereby read his private and interpersonal personae onto the
communal prophetic record. The ultimate effect is a personalization, or rather,
an “autobiographization” of communal prophecies, which works to locate Sog-
dogpa at the epicenter of interpretative authority over events and actions which
impacted the fate of all Tibetans.

Geopolitical Unification, Expansion, and Other Outcomes

The thirty-two-year period of 1583–1614 during which Sogdogpa executed his

army-averting ritual program was witness to significant shifts in the sociopoliti-
cal climate of the Ü and Tsang provinces of Tibet.62 To begin with, the sixteenth
 representations of efficacy 145

century was perhaps one of the most tumultuous centuries in Tibetan history.
It was a time of extreme political fragmentation and sectarian violence charac-
terized by ongoing military conflicts between rival factions in Ü and Tsang over
land and resources. A significant change of affairs took place in 1565, when
the first Tsang ruler, Zhing Shagpa Karma Tseten (Zhing shag pa Karma tshe
brtan), seized control of the strategic stronghold of Samdrubtse (Bsam grub
rste) in Zhikatse (Gzhis ka rtse) from the Rinpungpa (Rin spungs pa) aristoc-
racy, the family that had ruled much of Ü and Tsang from the year 1435. Zhing
Shagpa then initiated a campaign to bring all of Ü and Tsang under his control,
an endeavor that would only bear fruit with the concentrated efforts of his chil-
dren and grandchildren several decades later.
During this period, Mongol tribes were also mired in civil war,63 and hear-
ing of the weakened state of Tibet’s frontiers, losing Mongol armies often fled
southwest to try their luck in Tibet.64 The presence of Mongols in Tibet, and
their sporadic show of military and financial support for one or another of
Tibet’s aristocratic families or religious schools, introduced a wildcard into
local struggles over land and power. Focused as he was on ridding Tibet of
Mongol military intervention, Sogdogpa was at cross purposes with several
Tibetan factions, such as Ganden (Dga’ ldan) and Drepung (‘Bras spungs), who
were actively courting Mongol favor to bolster their own financial and sectarian
interests.65 Moreover, Sogdogpa’s sorcery campaign entailed his involvement
with diverse and sometimes competing geopolitical, sectarian, and clan forma-
tions, which made him a vortex for the whirlwind of forces vying for suprem-
acy at this time. Consequently, Sogdogpa suffered harsh criticisms from those
whose fortunes depended on Mongol warlords, or who saw in Sogdogpa’s ritual
efforts selfish and careerist attempts to acquire wealth, power, and renown.66
Sogdogpa’s representation of ritual efficacy outlined in the earlier section
of this chapter portrays rites as magical techniques to manipulate the cosmos
for tangible geopolitical results. According to this picture, rituals produce the
real geopolitical outcome of repelling Mongol forces from Tibet, that is, when
all the requisite conditions of prophecy are fulfilled and these coincide with
the occurrence of meaningful signs and/or dreams. Yet, when turning to the
diversity of events that Sogdogpa designates as ritual outcomes, it becomes evi-
dent that Sogdogpa envisioned the magical efficacy of his rituals as responsible
not only for the direct expulsion of Mongol forces, but also for the creation of
political and military circumstances within Tibet that would have facilitated
their expulsion.
Indeed, one striking feature of Sogdogpa’s account is his consistent effort
to co-opt internal Tibetan political and military developments by designating
146 tibetan ritual

them as outcomes of his rituals. Almost every episode in the History illustrates
in some way a concern to encapsulate diverse internal, political, military, and
economic developments and events within the magical functionality of his
army averting rites. Ritual outcomes in Sogdogpa’s account thus also include
the consolidation of Tibetan polities, the increased influence and power of
Tibetan rulers, and the increased authority and wealth of Sogdogpa and his
colleagues, to name but a few.
Most significantly, Sogdogpa’s narrative reveals that he was aware that the
broad-based support necessary to execute his large-scale rites required dispa-
rate Tibetan polities to work together, perhaps resulting in a unified front that
might stand a better chance in military confrontations with Mongol forces.
Participation in Sogdogpa’s ritual program would have therefore been a way
to show support for the growth and reinforcement of a politico-military estab-
lishment that could successfully “protect the doctrine,” or more precisely, its
institutions and patrons. In Sogdogpa’s time, such an establishment was none
other than the Tsang Desi government based in Samdrubtse. Thus, Sogdogpa
not only presents the efficacy of his rites in terms of their power to magically
kill, repel, or render helpless enemy Mongol troops, but he also frames them
as instrumental in the formation of a unified geopolitical entity centered on the
Tsang Desi, which was committed to maintaining Mongol forces at a safe dis-
tance through a combination of diplomacy and martial force. Sogdogpa even
goes so far as to lay claim to the gradual consolidation of Tsang and the subse-
quent expansion of Tsang Desi control into Ü and beyond.
Although several of the History’s passages reflect the central role Sogdogpa
assigns his rituals in the consolidation and growth of Tsang Desi power during
the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, the present chapter allows
space for only a few examples.67 In five episodes interspersed throughout his
accounts of ritual activities between the years 1590 and 1605, Sogdogpa directly
links the political unification of the Tsang region and the subsequent expansion
of Tsang Desi rule with his army-averting rites. The first of these episodes attri-
butes a pivotal event in the rise of Tsang political power—the end of internal
strife in Tsang—to the might and authority of Sogdogpa’s sorcery campaign.

At that time,68 most of the nobility and commoners of Rong were say-
ing, “he (Sogdogpa) is perpetrating such boundless deceit.” The people
of Tsang were telling all the aristocrats, such as Chugpo Adar (Phyug
po a dar), Bongkarné (Bong mkhar nas), Kudün Mönkipa (Sku mdun
smon skyid pa), and the like that the prophecies were fabricated.69
Even Nangtsené’s70 disciples were saying that things such as this do
not exist at all in Nangtse’s treasure teachings and that it was totally
 representations of efficacy 147

fraudulent. Some of great experience stated that [the message] seemed

to have been altered from having correlated several prophecies. No
one came forth who would hold them as authentic.

At that [time], Kudün Mönkiné (Sku mdun smon skyid nas) told
me to come to Gang Tsang.71 I showed him the text of Turning Back
Armies (dmag zlog), and he thus gained confidence in it and issued a
request encouraging virtue to Tsedong.72 Thereupon, the restoration
of the shrine (lha khang) on the bank of the Brahmaputra river in
Yeru73 was accomplished. Then, just as the stream of earlier and later
wars had become like water reaching a boil, [the prophecy] stating “the
polity of Tsang will become a stable aliance” (gstang gi rgyal srid mdun
ma gru bzhi ’ong) came to pass. Thus, since the peace and happiness
within the Tsang region up to the present is due to his kindness, the
benefit [of that act] is obvious.74

Here, Rong and Tsang are shorthand for the Rinpungpa aristocracy based in the
region of Rong75 in eastern Tsang and the Tsang Desi faction based due west of Rong
in the citadel of Samdrubtse, Zhikatse, also in Tsang. This episode thus depicts the
end of approximately twenty-five years of warfare between the Rinpungpa aristoc-
racy who ruled much of Ü and Tsang beginning from 1435, and the new Tsang
leadership of the Desi that first rose to power in 1565. The unification of Tsang
described here as having taken place in 1590 via the formation of a “stable alli-
ance” was surely a major contributing factor in the Tsang Desi government’s even-
tual expansion of territory to include all of Ü and Tsang. Based on other episodes,
Kudün Mönkiné seems to have been a leader with some influence in the court of
the Tsang Desi. Tsedong refers to an influential Sakya monastery in Tsang that had
close ties with the Tsang Desi government throughout this period.76
One of the greatest oppositions to Tsang rule over central Tibet came from
Drepung and the burgeoning Ganden Potrang (Dga’ ldan pho brang) government,
who had been courting Mongol military assistant since well before the Third Dalai
Lama Sönam Gyatso’s (Bsod nams rgya mtsho) expedition to Mongolia in 1577
and 1578.77 It is not surprising then that in the wake of Tsang unification Sog-
dogpa directed his rituals against divisions of Mongol forces which Drepuing had
raised in retaliation for a previous attack on an affiliated faction. After providing
extensive citations of relevant prophecy texts, Sogdogpa relates the following:

In short, effigies were formed of the soldiers of the six Chakhar78 divi-
sions (gzhung) and their horses. Through practicing for one month, an
auspicious sign emerged. That year79 the Drepungpa had roused an
army; in response to the western Hor having attacked the Sermyog (Ser
148 tibetan ritual

myog),80 an army headed by the king of the three Thümed81 divisions

had been approaching for about one month. They turned back.82

The year 1599 was particularly important for Sogdogpa; it marked his
first encounter with the Tsang Desi.83 Despite Sogdogpa’s reputation as a
Rasputinesque charlatan responsible for poisoning his patron, the leader
of Bongkhar, in the midst of promoting a sorcery campaign for the acquisi-
tion of wealth and fame, the Desi nonetheless offered Sogdogpa the venue
and patronage necessary to continue his ritual program after the death of his
patron. Through this connection with the Tsang Desi Sogdogpa seems to have
risen to the level of a state-sponsored ritualist, one of many, no doubt, respon-
sible for the performance of rites integral to the security of the kingdom. In
the process, the prophecied rituals, which had been time, place, and event
specific up to that point, became embedded within the annual ritual calendar
of the state.

Then, in the Dog year (1598), the memorial service (dus mchod) for
the leader [Bongkharné] came to pass and I was exiled from the land.
Subsequently, in the Pig year (1599), the Ruler (sde srid) took posses-
sion of Lingkhar.84 At the behest of Kudün Mönkiné, [the Tsang Ruler]
also gave me a monastery. So, even though some Hor and Tibetans
had previously offered him slanderous rumors [about me], from that
time on, he nurtured me with his kindness. He interrogated me much,
stating the following:

I have been wondering whether you lamas of the Ancient school

are only show-offs. But you are a humble, simple monk. Someone
said that you built stūpas as means to turn back border troops.
Where are they?

He told me:

Now that I have given you a monastery, by means of the monastic

estate (bzhis=gzhis), you must henceforth take up the burden of
turning back the Mongols.

Thus, I performed each type (rig=rigs) of Mongol averting [ritual] annu-

ally, without interruption. There were also many stūpas, [protection]
circles, and the like that were supposed to be placed at the upper end
of each and every small valley (lung tshan), but the slander that I was
employing malicious spells and poisoning [people] did not abate, [so
I could not do these things].
 representations of efficacy 149

Starting from the Pig year (1599), in observation of the annual

ritual calendar of the territory as a whole, I performed the seven day
accomplishment [rite] in connection with the man · d·ala for accomplish-
ing Vajrakīlāya, annually without interruption. In accordance with the
[prophetic] statement:

In the Earth Pig and Dog [years, they] will return to their own land,”
There was calm for those two years (1598–1599).85

Two years later, Sogdogpa used his new influence to restore stūpas along the
northern frontier that were deemed capable of defending the Ü and Tsang
provinces of Tibet against Mongol attacks. He was assisted in this project
by a certain Garwangpa (Gar dbang pa). Given the exchange with the Ninth
Karmapa Wangchug Dorje (Dbang phyug rdo rje, 1556–1603) that follows the
restorations, Garwangpa probably refers to the Sixth Shamar Garwang Chöki
Wangchug (Zhwa dmar Gar dbang Chos kyi dbang phyug, 1584–1630), whose
biography relates his brokerage of a peace treaty between the Tsang Desi gov-
ernment and a group of unnamed Mongols just a year prior.86 Moreover, the
Mongol warlord Kathan mentioned in this episode figures prominently in the
Sixth Shamar’s biography, not as a foe, but as an influential patron who lav-
ished great wealth on the Kargyu hierarch.87 In addition, the Sixth Shamar’s
father was the twentieth hierarch of Drikung Til (‘Bri gung mthil) monastery,
Tsungmé Chögyal Püntsog Trashi Pelzangpo (Mtshung med chos rgyal Phun
tshogs bkra shis dpal bzang po, 1547–1602/1626), a close associate of Sog-
dogpa’s guru Zhigpo Lingpa,88 and as Sogdogpa’s first autobiographical ritual
episode bears witness, an active performer of Mongol averting rituals in his
own right.
The Shamar’s role as political envoy to the Tsang Desi during this time,89
along with his ties to the Mongol warlord Khatan and his father’s participa-
tion in Mongol averting rites, all suggest that Sogdogpa conceived his ritual
program to function in combination with the Tsang Desi government’s more
conventional strategies of diplomacy and national defence. Moreover, given the
role of the Karmapa incarnation series as preceptors to the Tsang royal family,90
Sogdogpa’s mention of the Ninth Karmapa Wangchug Dorje’s enthusiastic
approval for his Mongol expelling ritual activities can be seen as a reflection of,
or even a further bid for, Tsang Desi support.

In the Ox year (1601), from Zabu91 I sent a letter via Drung Garwangpa
(Drung Gar dbang pa) to the Nagtsangpa (Nag tshang pa)92 leaders
(mi dpon), and to master Tropuwa (Khro phu ba) and his disciples in
Jang Dangra (Byang dang ra) [stating] the need to restore the northern
150 tibetan ritual

stūpas. Thus, the master Tropuwa and his disciples, together with
Garwang, and with Kyedar (Skyes dar) acting as sponsor, restored the
stūpa at Gurmo (Mgur mo). Garwang roused patronage and restored
the 108 stūpas of Tsikü-khug (Rtsi skud khug). And overseen by the
sponsor Trobo Dar (Khro bo dar), he restored the stūpas in both Rigu
(Ri gu) and Sheltsa (Shel tsha). Along the way, [they] were also able
to restore the 108 stūpas and [the stūpa] in Shurutso (Zhu ru ’tsho =
mtsho). Consequently, while Khatan was deceiving the Nagtsangpa
leaders and plotting to murder them by asphyxiation, a message (bya)
leaked out and [they] were able to flee.

Later, a regional nomad council took place (mdun ma lding93 khel),

due to which a letter from the Nagtsangpa leaders arrived, as well as
their acceptance of me as a treasure revealer (gter byin = gter ’byin).
Thereafter, both Karpo (Dkar po) and Lhatrug (Lha phrug) from among
the Pönpowa (Dpon po ba); and Kyedar (Skyes dar), Lhachug (Lha
phyug), and Serpo (Ser po) [from] among the Nagtsangpa were planning
to restore the Kungkhung Tsal (Kung khung tshal) [temple?] as well as
other stūpas. However, the community migrated to the east (smad), so it
was not accomplished.

From that year until the Hare [year] (1601–03), I myself accom-
plished a little over 100,000 recitations of The Heart of Wisdom, Averter
of Demons (shes snying bdud bzlog) with the aim of turning back the
Mongols.

At Namling, Garwangpa told Gyalwé Wangpo (Rgyal ba’i dbang

po, the Ninth Karmapa Dbang phyug rdo rje) the story of how he had
restored the northern stūpas. [The Karmapa] thus replied:

At the glorious copper colored mountain of Zabu,

A temple for turning back the Mongols has also been made.
You, Sogdogpa, and disciples seem to be of benefit to Tibet.
You still have to go to the north and restore the stūpas that require
restoration. I will provide (gter=ster) the materials and ritual
supplies.

Gyalwé Wangpo passed away soon thereafter (1603), so this was not
done.94

Sogdogpa relates that just a few years later, his rituals played a role in enhanc-
ing the power and authority of the Tsang Desi considerably, such that the
 representations of efficacy 151

leader was capable of military success against an invading Mongol army.

Note that in the following episode Sogdogpa also enlists the assistance of
Bönpo ritualists, suggesting that the justification of “protecting the dharma,”
the stated motive for the performance of these violent rites, included more
than Buddhist institutions alone. Indeed, the rites described in these epi-
sodes appear to be more about protecting Tibet’s frontiers and populace from
the ravages of warfare than saving Buddhist monasteries, reliquaries, and
shrines, although those two sets of concerns were no doubt seen as very much
interrelated. Nevertheless, such inclusiveness suggests that rituals purport-
edly intended to “protect the dharma” were at times conceived more broadly
as strategies for safeguarding Tibetan territorial, ethnic, and religious integ-
rity, regardless of Bönpo or Buddhist affiliation. Also of note, the date of this
episode, 1605, is roughly contemporaneous with Sogdogpa’s composition of
the Thunder of Definitive Meaning (Nges don ’brug sgra) and Dispelling Mental
Darkness (Yid kyi mun sel), his two lengthiest compositions, perhaps indicat-
ing that the paper he acquired on this occasion went for more than printed
effigy rites alone.

Now, that year (1605), I thought to once again start repelling [rites].
When there was not enough paper, this corresponded with when the
Ruler had led a large army into Ü.95 [The ruler then said]: “Come to
Panam Lhundrub Tse96 to [perform] the rites for my health and longev-
ity (sku rim) and for turning back the Mongols!”97 An endless supply of
paper was available there, so we printed about 150,000 effigies (linga).
Then, in the course of the nine day accomplishment rite, several signs
(rtags mtshan) of [the accomplishment of] violent [activity] occurred for
everyone involved in the practice, which seems to have been due to the
auspicious circumstance that the Ruler’s power would expand (sde srid
mtshan don rgyug pa).

At that [point], Zhabdrung Chen-nga Rinpoché (Zhabs drung

Spyan snga rin po che)98 gave the order: “For accomplishment in
this rite, it is very important to extend the session.” Once signs had
emerged, I requested permission to end [the practice]. It is said within
the document: “Bönpos are to hurl one third of the effigies as magical
weapons.” Thus, [I had] three skilled Bönpo from Rizhingpa (Ri zhing
pa) hurl magical weapons (zor ’phang). I performed a burnt offering
(sbyin bsregs). The skull of a Mongol [then] appeared as a vessel for
suppression [rites] (mnan pa), which was an auspicious circumstance
(rten ’brel bzang).
152 tibetan ritual

When (rtsa=tsa) considered afterwards, that was the day the

Mongols were defeated in battle at Rama Gang (Ra ma sgang), and the
following day they retreated from Gyang Tang Gang (Rgyang thang
sgang). That our own health and longevity rites (sku rim) got the credit
(ngo so) for the expansion of the Ruler’s authority (mtshan lung rgyug
pa), which was due to his own exalted merit, seems to have been due
to the compassion of the [three] jewels.99

Beyond the mere expulsion of Mongol armies from Tibet, the effects described
in the aforementioned five episodes range from the political unification of
Tsang, the defeat of armies with ties to rival Tibetan factions, the consolidation
of borders, and the expansion of Tsang power, to Sogdogpa’s acquisition of a
monastery, paper, skulls, and infamy. Implicit in Sogdogpa’s inclusion of these
diverse outcomes in his ritual episodes, although not stated as such, is the
notion that broad-based support for these rites functioned as a catalyst for the
unification of disparate polities and their material resources around a common
cause. By thus subsuming these political and martial causes for Tsang Desi
success within his ritual espisodes, Sogdogpa effectively credits to the magical
functionality of rites a diversity of events that theoretically could have, in and
of themselves and without the help of sorcery, contributed to the consolidation
and expansion of Tsang Desi power, and the consequent expulsion of Mongol
armies from Tibet.

Conclusions

Sogdogpa’s rhetorical strategy of representing ritual outcomes as events fore-

told and authenticated by prophecies, signs, and dreams allowed him the inter-
pretative leverage and authority to retrospectively claim a significant role for
his rituals in the defining geopolitical events of his day. Indeed, when con-
sidering together the five episodes outlined earlier, it becomes clear that Sog-
dogpa envisioned his sorcery program as a decisive factor behind the Tsang
Desi government’s consolidation and expansion of power throughout Tsang
and Ü. Associating ritual successes with the successes of the Tsang polity, and
thereby reading the Tsang dynasty onto the prophetic record enabled Sogdogpa
to legitimate Tsang rule and his own controversial ritual activities in a single
stroke.
Although the History is without a colophon, its final episode takes place
in 1614, ten years prior to Sogdogpa’s death in 1624.100 Composed sometime
during this ten-year window, the History emerged at the apex of Tsang Desi
 representations of efficacy 153

power.101 By 1614, the government of the Tsang Desi had made significant
headway in the consolidation of Tsang and Ü, was actively engaged in diplo-
matic missions with the neighboring polities of Nepal, China, and Yunnan,102
and was having some success in addressing Mongol threats with a combina-
tion of diplomacy and force.103 The political climate was ripe during the final
decade of Sogdogpa’s life for him to publicly promote his ritual career as hav-
ing been the major force behind the rise of Tsang power.
We learn from the colophon of Sogdogpa’s correspondence, Abandon-
ing Objections to “Buddhahood Without Meditation”: A Response to Lama Gojo’s
Query (Bla ma go ‘jo’i zhu lan ma sgom sangs rgyas kyi btsod spong),104 that this
short text was composed on the first day (dga’ ba) of the seventh month of the
Water Male Rat year, 1612, at Samdrubtse palace, the headquarters of Tsang
Desi rule, thus indicating that Sogdogpa continued to nurture a relationship
with the Tsang rulers during the years leading up to his composition of the
History. Moreover, Sogdogpa’s many depictions of the malicious gossip that
circulated about his ritual activities further demonstrates that the History was
in part a strategy to legitimate his ritual career and clear his name in the eyes
of influential peers, most notably the Tsang royalty. The candor and hesitancy
with which Sogdogpa relates his interpretation of events as ritual outcomes,
coupled with the descriptions of failed rituals and scandals, combine with the
citation of prophecies and the accounts of dreams and signs to lend the History
a persuasive air of authenticity and honesty. What could be more convincing as
proof of altruistic intent than the positive implications each prophesied episode
had for the legitimacy of Tsang rule, articulated with a rare combination of
humility, audacity, and humor?
The structure and content of Sogdogpa’s ritual episodes—with their skillful
combination of public prophecies, geopolitical events, signs, and dreams—gives
thematic form to what is perhaps a necessary component of all storytelling, the
retrospective structuring of experiences and events to conform to an authori-
tative, public discourse of meaning. And yet, as illustrated earlier, Sogdogpa
does not narrate his story through simply organizing his private experiences
according to the standards of a public, textual format. Rather, Sogdogpa crafts
his story by strategically deploying a set of culturally significant discourses
inclusive of dreams, signs, prophecies, rituals, and geopolitical events, varying
in terms of their respective private and public scopes of experience, so as to
move the reader to accept the mutual interanimation and implication of these
discourses, and in turn, the private and public domains of which they partake.
The resultant text is a “hybrid construction,”105 which illustrates considerable
fluidity between private and public discourses of experience, knowledge, and
authority.
154 tibetan ritual

Ultimately, this careful blending of public and private discourses works to

legitimate Sogdogpa’s ritual actions, establish his interpretive authority over
those actions, and thereby fashion him in the public image of the foremost
state ritual specialist of his time (even if only in his own mind). The interpreta-
tive act of designating “outcomes” on its pages thus renders Sogdogpa’s His-
tory a magical text in its own right.106 It is, after all, Sogdogpa’s act of writing
the History that makes his sorcery so powerful, creating the potency and effi-
cacy of his rites through the ritual act of instantiating these events within the
public sphere of textual discourse.

notes
I thank Professors Ana Cristina Lopes and Janet Gyatso for their many insightful
comments and suggestions on earlier drafts of this chapter and Yangga for his help in
clarifying difficult Tibetan passages.
1. The material presented in this chapter forms part of my Ph.D. dissertation for
the Committee on the Study of Religion at Harvard University.
2. For details on zlog pa and other similar types of protective rituals, see Beyer,
The Cult of Tārā, 363–467; Donald S. Lopez, Elaborations on Emptiness: Uses of the Heart
Sūtra (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996), 216–38; Stan Royal Mumford,
Himalayan Dialogue: Tibetan Lamas and Gurung Shamans in Nepal (Madison, WI:
University of Wisconsin Press), 117–39; René de Nebesky-Wojkowitz, Demons and
Oracles of Tibet (1956; reprint, Kathmandu, Nepal: Book Faith India, 1996), 507–37; and
Sherry Ortner, Sherpas through their Rituals (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1978), 91–127.
3. This confluence of ethnic, religious, and state identity is perhaps most clearly
expressed in the Man · i Bka’ bum, bKa’ thang literature, and other treasure narratives
related to the Tibetan imperial period. Such treasure stories began to surface in the
twelfth century. See Matthew Kapstein, The Tibetan Assimilation of Buddhism: Conversion,
Contestation and Memory (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 32–37, 38–50,
141–62, for insightful discussions of the rhetorical, literary dimensions of the Sba’
bzhed, Man · i Bka’ bum and other narratives of the imperial period.
4. For more on state rituals intended to protect against foreign armies, see Nebesky-
Wojkowitz, Oracles and Demons of Tibet (1996), 493–500.
5. Perhaps the most notable example is the Dga’ ldan pho brang government’s per-
formance of annual army-averting rites as an integral part of its state ritual apparatus
from the time of its inception in 1642. For details concerning some of the dGa’ ldan pho
brang government’s martial state rites, see Nebesky-Wojkowitz, Oracles and Demons of
Tibet (1996), 493–500. Also of note is that Bhutanese ritual specialists down to the pres-
ent commemorate the expulsion of Dga’ ldan pho brang government forces during the
formation of the kingdom of Bhutan through the annual performance of army averting
rites (Françoise Pommaret, personal communication, May 14, 2007). For a related dis-
cussion, see her article “Protectors of Bhutan: the Role of Guru Rinpoche and the Eight
 representations of efficacy 155

Categories of Gods and Demons (lHa srin sde brgyad),” in Written Treasures, Hidden Texts
(Thimpu: National Library, forthcoming). There, Pommaret discusses the symbolic role
of a wrathful form of Padmasambhava in the protection of the nation of Bhutan.
6. It should be noted that dmag bzlog rituals were by no means the sole preserve of
lay Rnying ma ritual specialists. Sa skya, Bka’ brgyud, Jo nang, and Dge lugs ritual spe-
cialists of varying ordination statuses also engaged in rituals aimed at protection against
bellicose neighbors. For ample evidence of pan-sectarian involvement in dmag zlog rites
during the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, see Kun dga’ blo gros, Sa skya
gdung rabs ngo mtshar bang mdzod kyi kha skong (Chengdu: Mi rigs dpe skrun khang,
1991); Che tshang sprul sku Bstan ‘dzin padma’i rgyal mtshan, Nges don bstan pa’i sny-
ing po ‘bri gung pa chen po’i gdan rabs chos kyi byung tshul gser gyi phreng ba, ed. Chab spel
Tshe brtan phun tshogs, Gangs can rig mdzod 8 (Lhasa: Bod ljongs bod yig dpe skrun
khang, 1989); and Ngag dbang blo bzang rgya mtsho, Rje thams cad mkhyen pa Bsod
nams rgya mtsho’i rnam thar dngos grub rgya mtsho’i shing rta, Collected Works of Vth Dalai
Lama Ngag-dbang-blo-bzang-rgya-mtsho (Gangtok, Sikkim: Sikkim Research Institute of
Tibetology, 1991–95) vol. 8, among countless other examples.
7. The term Sog was an abbreviated ethnonym for Sogdians (Sog dag) during the
imperial period and became an ethnonym for Mongols (Sog po) after their rise to power
in the thirteenth century. For a general discussion of Tibetan ethnonyms, see Rolf
Alfred Stein, Tibetan Civilization (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1972), 34.
8. Sog bzlog pa Blo gros rgyal mtshan, Collected Works of Sog bzlog pa blo gros rgyal
mtshan (New Delhi: Sanje Dorji), vol. 1, 203–59.
9. The Gtsang sde srid, or Gtsang rulers, featuring throughout Sog bzlog pa’s
account, were most likely Karma bstan srung dbang po (d. 1611?), the third Gtsang
sde srid and son of the first Gtsang sde srid, Zhing shag pa Tshe brtan rdo rje, and
Karma bstan srung dbang po’s son, Phun tshogs rnam rgyal (1586–1632?). Although
Karma bstan srung dbang po’s exact dates remain unknown, Sum pa mkhan po Ye
shes dpal ‘byor, Chos ‘byung dpag bsam ljon bzang (Lanzhou, PRC: Gansu Nationalities
Publishing House, 1992), 893, records that the fourth Gtsang sde srid Karma phun
tshog rnam rgyal assumed control in the Water Rat year of 1612, presumably follow-
ing the death of his father. Gene Smith follows Bsod nams don grub’s Gangs can mi
sna grags can gyi ‘khrungs ‘das lo tshigs re’u mig to give 1597 as the birth date for Karma
phun tshogs rnam rgyal; see www.tbrc.org. The Gtsang sde srid law code, Gtsang pa
sde srid dang karma bstan skyong dbang po’i ‘dus su gtan la phab pa’i khrims yig zhal lce
bcu drug, recently republished in Bsod nams tshe ring, ed., Snga rabs bod kyi srid
khrims (Chengdu: Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 2004), 165–219, gives (on p. 167) the Iron
Dog year (lcags khyi lo) as this figure’s birth date. However, this year corresponds to
1550 or 1610, which are too early and late, respectively, for him to have ascended to the
throne in 1612, seized Yar rgyab at age 25 (Snga rabs bod kyi srid khrims, 167) and
defeated Mongol armies shortly thereafter in the Earth Horse year (sa rta lo) of 1618
(Snga rabs bod kyi srid khrims, 167). Given such inconsistencies, it is perhaps more
likely, as concluded by Giuseppe Tucci, Tibetan Painted Scrolls, 2 vols (Rome: Libreria
dello Stato, 1949), 2: 697, that Karma Phun tshogs rnam rgyal was born some time
around the Fire Dog year of 1586, twenty-five years prior to his seizure of Yar rgyab
in 1610.
156 tibetan ritual

10. Krang dbyi sun et al., Bod rgya tshig mdzod chen mo, 2807, defines lo rgyus as
“a record of past events/circumstances” (gnas tshul byung rabs).
11. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 204.6–206.1. Here, Sog bzlog pa twice refers to
his work as a biography (rnam thar). And it is clear from his opening remarks that he
means autobiography (rang gi rnam thar).
12. Sog bzlog pa also attempts to illustrate the precedence for such rituals by
including in his biography of Padmasambhava, Yid kyi mun sel, key episodes where
Padmasambhava performs “army averting rites” (dmag zlog) for the Tibetan court, rites
that resemble Sog bzlog pa’s own. For details, see Sog bzlog pa Blo gros rgyal mtshan,
Slob dpon sangs rgyas gnyis pa padma ‘byung gnas kyi rnam par thar pa yid kyi mun sel, in
Sog bzlog pa Blo gros rgyal mtshan, Slob dpon sangs rgyas gnyis pa’i rnam thar yig kyi mun
sel (Delhi: Chos spyod Publications, 2005), 113–17.
13. For a notable nonmartial point of comparison, see the detailed discussion of
the role of prophecy in the autobiographical account of the treasure revealer ‘Jigs med
glingpa in Janet Gyatso, Apparitions of the Self: The Secret Biographies of a Tibetan Visionary
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991).
14. Sog bzlog refers to himself as the “healer of Gdong mkar” (gdong dkar/mkhar
‘tsho byed) in the colophon of Rdzogs chen pa sprul sku zhig po gling pa gar gyi dbang phyug
rtsal gyi skyes rabs rags bsdus dang rnam thar, in Collected Works of Sog bzlog pa, vol. 1, 109;
and in the colophon of Rig ‘dzin gyi rnam dbye, in Collected Works of Sog bzlog pa, vol. 2,
310. Gyurme Dorje and Kapstein locate Gdong mkhar in Gtsang along the northern
bank of the Brahmaputra river, at the southern end of the Shangs valley due north of
Gzhis ka rtse. For their map of Gtsang, see Dudjom Rinpoche, The Nyingma School of
Tibetan Buddhism, tr. Gyurme Dorje and Matthew Kapstein (Boston, MA: Wisdom
Publications, 1991), vol. 2, map 6.
15. Dge ba ‘bum was the twelfth-century physician and student of Bla ma Zhang
Brtson grus grags pa responsible for restoring the dikes of the Brahmaputra river to
prevent flooding in Lhasa. For more details on this figure, see Ko shul grags pa ‘byung
gnas and Rgyal ba blo bzang mkhas grub, Gangs can mkhas grub rim byon ming mdzod
(Lanzhou: Kan su’u mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 1992), 1848.
16. Sog bzlog pa writes that Zhig po gling pa cited this prophecy from Padma gling
pa’s treasure prophecy Illuminating Mirror (Kun gsal me long). This text can be found in
Rig ‘dzin padma gling pa, Rig ‘dzin Padma gling pa yi zab gter chos mdzod rin po che
(Thimphu: Kunsang Tobgay, 1975–76), vol. 1, 19–138.
17. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 218, describes that the Mongol invasion was
presaged by the death of ‘Phags pa in 1281 and led to the destruction of ‘Bri gung in
1290. For historical details concerning the first Mongol conquest of Tibet see Luciano
Petech, Central Tibet and the Mongols: The Yüan-Sa skya Period of Tibetan History, Serie
Orientale Roma 65. (Rome: Istituto Italiano Per il Medio ed Esremo Oriente, 1990); and
Turell Wiley, “The First Mongol Conquest of Tibet Reinterpreted,” Harvard Journal of
Asiatic Studies 37, Issue 1 (1977): 103–33.
18. Zab bu lung is a valley associated with Padmasambhava located in Shangs, a
region in Gtsang, north of the Brahmaputra River from Myang. See Dudjom, Nyingma
School of Tibetan Buddhism, vol. 2, map 6.
 representations of efficacy 157

19. These dates are based on the dates of Sog bzlog pa’s birth and death found in
Lo chen Dharmaśrī’s (1654–1717) history of the Mdo dgongs ‘dus empowerment lineage,
‘Dus mdo dbang gi spyi don, in Rnying ma bka’ ma rgyas (Kalimpong, West Bengal:
Dupjung Lama, 1982–87), vol. pha, 130.
20. For an elaborate account of this event, which was Zhig po gling pa’s first trea-
sure revelation, see Sog bzlog pa, Zhig gling rnam thar, 48–53. There, Sog bzlog pa refers
to this treasure cycle as Ways of Averting Border Armies (Mtha’ dmag bzlog byed). However,
Kun bzang nges don klong yangs, Bod du byung ba’i gsang sngags snga ‘gyur gyi bstan
‘dzin skyes mchog rim byon gyi rnam thar nor bu’i do shal (Dalhousie, H.P.: Damchoe
Sangpo, 1976), 297, calls it the Twenty-five Ways of Averting Armies (Dmag zlog nyer lnga).
Gu ru bkra shis ngag dbang blo gros, Gu bkra’i chos ‘byung (Beijing: China’s Tibetan
Culture Publishing House, 1990), 447–48, recounts this treasure revelation episode
but does not include the Twenty-five Ways of Averting Armies among the treasures found
on that occasion.
21. ‘Jam mgon Kong sprul, Rin chen gter mdzod (Paro, Bhutan: Ngrodrup and
Sherab Drimay, 1978), vol. 44 (phi), 57–136. The titles of these five texts are as follows:
Spyi ru zlog thabs kyi rim pa sde tshan du byas pa gter gzhung (57–72), Rgyal chen sde bzhi’i
mchod phreng gter gzhung (73–92), Sgo srung dang ‘phrang srung gi gtor chog gter gzhung
(93–104), Drag bskul gter gzhung (105–22), Mgon po bdun bcu rtsa gnyis mdos bca’ thabs
bskur pa dang bcas pa chog gter gzhung (123–36). Also under the heading of Dmag zlog
nyer lnga are five other ritual texts authored by later figures as addenda to Zhig po gling
pa’s revelations. These include a skong gsol ritual reported to have been based on Sog
bzlog pa’s own visionary experience (137–68); Rgyal chen mchod thabs gtor zlog mdos
rnams kyi lag len, by Rin chen rnam rgyal (169–216); a srog dbang ritual, by ‘Jam mgon
Kong sprul Blo gros mtha’ yas (217–46); Yul ‘khor srung gi mchod rten las ‘jug gter gzhung,
by Klong gsal snying po (247–60); and Phyag rdor gtum po’i dmag zlog rgyal chen sde
bzhi’i sgrub thabs gter gzhung, by Nag gi rdo rje (261–75).
22. ‘Jam mgon Kong sprul, Rin chen gter mdzod, vol. 44 (phi), 57–72.
23. Krang dbyi sun, Bod rgya tshig mdzod chen mo, 2561, defines yas as “the effigy
substance, thread-crosses, ritual cakes, and so forth, of Bon po” (bon po’i glud rdzad mdos
gtor sogs). Nebesky-Wojkowitz, Oracles and Demons of Tibet (1993), 371, describes yas as
symbolic treasures kept in the thread-cross (mdos) residence of a god or goddess, made
from “small pieces of cloth, semi-precious stones, and small weapons and harnesses,
the latter objects being made of dough with the help of zan par.”
24. Unfortunately, the obscurity of items 15–18 is not clarified through separate
descriptions in the body of this text. However, the following directions on how to repel
“through resounding the enlightened speech of dharma” (62–63) may shed some light
on what is intended by these items:
Those reciting the scriptures should be as follows:

11 monks (bande) with ethical discipline (khrims)

7 [monks] without ethical discipline
11 mantrins with tantric commitments
7 [mantrins] without tantric commitments
158 tibetan ritual

The row should be headed by a ruler whose dominion has not yet declined (btsad po
mnga’ thang ma nyams pa gcig). At the head of them all should be a pure, fully
ordained monk (dge slong). They should face the direction from which the army is
coming and chant the scriptures. A spiritual friend with the view of enlightened
mind should make the aspirations. (63)
25. Zhig po gling pa, Dmag zlog nyi shu rtsa lnga las spyi ru zlog thabs kyi rim pa sde
tshan du byas pa, in ‘Jam mgon Kong sprul, Rin chen gter mdzod, vol. 44 (phi),
58.1–59.1.
26. For discussions of prophecy as autobiography in the Tibetan religious context,
see Gyatso, Apparitions of the Self, 240–41; and Janet Gyatso, “Autobiography in Tibetan
Religious Literature: Reflections on its Modes of Self-Presentation,” in Tibetan Studies:
Proceedings of the 5th International Association for Tibetan Studies, Narita 1989, ed. Shōren
Ihara and Zuihō Yamaguchi, 2 vols. (Narita-shi, Chiba-Ken, Japan: Naritasan Shinshoji,
1992) 2: 473.
27. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 224.2–224.5, refers to the All-Illuminating
Mirror (Kun gsal me long) as one of Padma gling pa’s treasure prophecies.
28. Btsan ‘gong yam shud dmar po is the name of a dharma protector, otherwise
known as Yam shud dmar po, or red Yam shud. Nebesky-Wojkowitz, Oracles and
Demons of Tibet (1996), 168–70, notes that some Tibetans regard this being to be a mix-
ture between a bstan and a ‘gong po, two classes of spirits.
29. For a general discussion of the various functions of skulls in Tibetan rituals,
including their use with effigies in exorcism rites, see Andrea Loseries-Leick, “The Use
of Human Skulls in Tibetan Rituals,” in Tibetan Studies: Proceedings of the 5th International
Association for Tibetan Studies, Narita 1989, ed. Shōren Ihara and Zuihō Yamaguchi, 2
vols. (Narita-shi, Chiba-Ken, Japan: Naritasan Shinshoji, 1992) 1: 159–73.
30. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 228.6–229.2.
31. Rgyal ba ‘dus pa is the treasure cycle revealed by Sog bzlog pa’s guru Zhig po
gling pa. The cycle of the Rgyal ba ‘dus pa appears in ‘Jam mgon Kong sprul, Rin chen
gter mdzod (1978), vol. 8 (nya).
32. Hor, or Hor pa, a Tibetan ethnonym originally associated with the Uighurs
during the imperial period, was later used to identify Mongols in general beginning
from the thirteenth century. Later still the term was used to designate specific Mongol
tribes that underwent varying degrees of Tibetanization and settled in the regions east
and northeast of central Tibet (Stein, Tibetan Civilization, 34). Here, and throughout the
prophecies cited in the History, the term Hor seems to refer to Mongols in general.
However, in the autobiographical episodes composed by Sog bzlog pa, it is clear that he
uses the ethnonym Hor to refer to Mongols in general and to the partially Tibetanized
Mongol groups that settled in the frontier zones along the eastern and northeastern
peripheries of central Tibet. Although deciphering the exact referents of the various
ethnonyms appearing in Sog bzlog pa’s account is clearly a necessary step for a more
complete appreciation of the dynamics described in the History, this lies beyond the
scope of the present chapter.
33. ‘O yug, or ‘Od yug is an incorrect spelling for ‘U yug, in Gtsang. This is the
river valley of the ‘U yug river tributary due north of the Brahmaputra from Rin spungs.
For more details on this location, see Turrell Wiley, The Geography of Tibet According to
 representations of efficacy 159

the ‘Dzam gling rgyal bshad, Serie Orientale Roma 25 (Rome: Istituto Italiano Per il
Medio ed Esremo Oriente, 1962), 71, 121, 140 and 141.
34. I could not locate Nyug mda’ in any of the three place name indexes at my dis-
posal—Turrell Wiley’s The Geography of Tibet According to the ‘Dzam gling rgyal bshad;
Turrell Wiley’s A Place Name Index to George N. Roerich’s Translation of ‘The Blue Annals,
Serie Orientale Roma 15 (Rome: Istituto Italiano Per il Medio ed Esremo Oriente, 1958);
and Alphonsa Ferrrari’s mK’yen brtse’s Guide to the Holy Places of Central Tibet, Serie
Orientale Roma 14 (Rome: Instituto Italiano Per il Medio ed Esremo Oriente, 1958). The
identification of each place name that appears in the History is an especially challenging
enterprise that will require a substantial research effort. Unfortunately, such an effort lies
beyond the scope of the present chapter. Throughout the remainder of this chapter I
attempt only to provide annotations for as many place names as time and resources allow.
35. Shes rab rdo rje, the head Mkhan po at Bka’ rnying bshad grub gling in
Boudhanath, Nepal, informed me that this might refer to the tradition of ending a series
of rites with a long-life ritual, specifically either a tshe dbang or tshe ‘gugs, because the
performance of rites is believed to shorten the life span of ritual specialists.
36. I have yet to identify this text.
37. ‘Bri gung Zhabs drung is most likely the twentieth hierarch of ‘Bri gung mthil
monastery, Mtshung med chos rgyal phun tshogs Bkra shis dpal bzang po (1547–
1602/1626), who was very close with Sog bzlog pa’s guru Zhig po gling pa, and the
father of the Sixth Zhwa dmar incarnation, Gar dbang Chos kyi dbang phyug
(1584–1630).
38. Shangs refers to the river valley of the Shangs tributary of the Brahmaputra
river, which runs north of the Brahmaputra and due west of the ‘U yug river valley. For
details see Wylie, The Geography of Tibet, 71, 129, 135, 140, and 141.
39. Stod. It should be noted that by itself Stod is highly ambiguous as a place
name, but it can be taken to refer to far western Tibet, as Sog bzlog pa does in this
episode.
40. Mus refers to the Mus valley, which is located north of the Brahmaputra river
and upstream, or west of Shangs valley (Ferrari 1958: 68, 158).
41. Pu hrangs is a location in the far western region of Tibet known as Stod mnga’
ris. For more details see Wylie, The Geography of Tibet, xix, xxxii, xxxiv, 56–64, 81, 96,
and 120–21.
42. Glo bo is Klo bo sman thang, otherwise known as Loh Manthang, or Mustang
in northwestern Nepal. See Wiley, The Geography of Tibet, 63 and 127.
43. Te se is probably an alternative spelling for Gangs ri Ti se, the popular pilgrim-
age destination more commonly known as Mount Kailash, located in far western Tibet.
See Wiley, The Geography of Tibet, 53–62, 114, 121, and 123.
44. La stod is western Gtsang extending from Glo bo. See Wiley, The Geography of
Tibet, 64.
45. Byang here probably refers to the Byang myriarchy, of which Ngam rings was
the capital. See note 52 for more details.
46. Dol po most likely refers to contemporary Dolpo in northern Nepal.
47. Nag tshang is the region due north of Gtsang. See Wiley, The Geography of
Tibet, 88 and 164.
160 tibetan ritual

48. Mnga’ ris is a district in the far western region of Tibet known as Stod. See
Wiley, The Geography of Tibet, xix, xxxii, xxxiv, 56, 60, 61, 63, 64, 81, 96, 120, 121, 126,
127, 130, 140, 145, 147, and 163.
49. Rgyal mo rong is a district in the far eastern region of Tibet known as Smad
mdo khams. See Wiley, The Geography of Tibet, xix, 98, 102, 103, 105, 118, 163, and 184.
50. The area of Sa skya, which is the location of Sa skya monastery, is in western
Gtsang south of the Brahmaputra river. See Wiley, The Geography of Tibet, 66, 67, 127,
133, 134, 143, 145, and 187.
51. Given the mention of Rgyal mo rong in Sog bzlog pa’s dream, Rdzong kha here
might possibly refer to Rdzong ‘ga, one of the eighteen kingdoms of Rgyal mo rong. See
Wiley, The Geography of Tibet, 102 and 184.
52. Byang Ngam ring, otherwise known as Ngam ring, was the capital of the old
Byang myriarchy located in the northwestern edge of Gtsang along the northern bank
of the Brahmaputra river. See Wiley, The Geography of Tibet, 67, 131, 132, 135, and 145.
53. Zhang zhang lha brag is a locale bordering Byang Ngam ring on the northern
bank of the Brahmaputra river in far western Gtsang. Ferrrari, mK’yen brtse’s Guide, 65
and 153.
54. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 244.6–245.3.
55. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 253.
56. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 254.
57. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 241.
58. Sog bzlog pa references the use of Mongol skulls and names in effigy rites
several times throughout the History. For more on the use of skulls and effigies in ritu-
als of black magic and exorcism, see Loseries-Leick, “The Use of Human Skulls in
Tibetan Rituals,” 168–69.
59. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 241.
60. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 244.
61. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 233.
62. The following paragraph is paraphrased from Giuseppe Tucci, Tibetan Painted
Scrolls, 39–56.
63. Charles Bawden, The Modern History of Mongolia (London/New York: Kegan
Paul International, 1989), 23–24.
64. This is according to Sog bzlog pa’s record in Sog bzlog lo rgyus of the reasons
for the Mongol military presence in Tibet during this period.
65. See, for example, Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 251.1–251.3. Here, Sog bzlog
pa cites a certain ‘Bras spungs sprul pa’i sku’i rnam thar that describes the Third Dalai
Lama Bsod nams rgya mtsho’s death, and his subsequent rebirth among Mongol aris-
tocracy. Sog bzlog pa then laments this fact in light of his mandate to turn back encroach-
ing Mongol armies, stating: “I became discouraged thinking that if the birth of such a
sublime being in Mongolia was due to sentient beings’ lack of merit, how could a single
ordinary person like me, with the thought of turning back the Mongols, help them.”
66. There are multiple episodes in the History where Sog bzlog pa reports accusa-
tions to this effect. Such charges were later echoed more vehemently by the Fifth Dalai
Lama throughout his autobiographical and biographical writings, thus indicating that
these episodes in the History were not produced solely for literary effect.
 representations of efficacy 161

67. I intend to elaborate on this finding in much greater detail in my Ph.D. dis-
sertation on the life and times of Sog bzlog pa Blo gros rgyal mtshan and his guru Zhig
po gling pa.
68. The preceding passage gives 1590 as the date of this episode.
69. Thus far, I have been unable to identify the offices and locations of these three
figures.
70. Snang rtse nas refers to Zhig po gling pa in his role as political leader of the
region of Snang rtse, west of Lhasa.
71. I was unable to identify Gang tshang in the place name indexes available to me.
72. Rtse gdong is the famous Sa skya monastery located in Gtsang. Judging by
descriptions in the Sa skya gdung rabs kha skong of trips made by the Rtse gdong hier-
archs between there and Sa skya, the Gtsang rulers’ stronghold of Bsam grub rtse is
located between the two Sa skya monasteries. Thus, we have no reason to doubt that the
old location of Rtse gdong corresponds with its current location on the northern bank of
the Brahmaputra River in the Rnam gling area of Gtsang.
73. G.yas ru is the “left,” or eastern quarter of the “four units” (ru bzhi), the old
imperial military/administrative divisions of Dbus and Gtsang. G.yas ru corresponds to
a segment of eastern Gtsang. See G. Uray “The Four Horns of Tibet According to the
Royal Annals,” Acta Orientalia (Hungarica) (1960): 31–57, for a discussion of the ru bzhi:
g.yon ru, dbu ru, g.yas ru, ru lag. Uray (55) concludes that “the horns were the units of
both military and economic (financial) administration as early as the 7th century and the
beginning of the 8th,” with ru lag added as an ancillary unit (yan lag) in the year 733.
74. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 233.3–234.2.
75. Wylie, Geography of Tibet, 72.
76. For details concerning this relationship, see the biographies of the Rtse gdong
hierarchs active between 1565 and 1642 in Kun dga’ blo gros, Sa skya gdung rabs kha
skong.
77. Tucci, Tibetan Painted Scrolls, 1: 39–56. For an analysis of Tibetan and
Mongolian records of Bsod nams rgya mtsho’s visit to Mongolia in 1577 and 1578, see
Hidehiro Okada, “The Third Dalai Lama and Altan Khan of the Tümed,” Journal of
International Association of Tibetan Studies 5 (1989): 645–52. Okada concludes, based on
Mongolian sources, that the Fifth Dalai Lama fabricated and omitted details pertaining
to this visit.
78. The “six Chakhar divisions” are an eastern-Mongolian socio-political structure
that was first established by Dayan Khan in the early sixteenth century. Johan Elverskog,
The Jewel Translucent Sūtra: Altan Khan and the Mongols in the 16th Century (Leiden,
Netherlands: Brill, 2003), 3–11, for a discussion of the relevant historiographical
issues.
79. Earlier in this episode the Iron Female Rabbit year of 1591 is mentioned.
80. Evinced by the usage of the term in another passage, Ser myog appears to be
an ethnonym.
81. The Thümed was a Mongol tribe whose prince, Altan Khan, is said to have
been converted by the Third Dalai Lama Bsod nams rgya mtsho during a trip to Mongolia
in 1577 and 1578. For more details, see Tucci, Tibetan Painted Scrolls, 1: 39–56; and
Smith, Among Tibetan Texts, 121.
162 tibetan ritual

82. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 239.5–239.6.

83. The Gtsang sde srid referred to in this and the following episodes are most
likely Karma bstan srung dbang po.
84. Gling mkhar rdzong was the traditional stronghold of the ‘U yug region north
of the Brahmaputra river. It is listed as one of the thirteen myriarchies (khri skor), or
constituencies consisting of 10,000 household-units. For a detailed account of the
Mongol administrative division of Tibet into thirteen myriarchies, and a full list of these
thirteen, see Petech, Central Tibet and the Mongols, 50–61.
85. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 246.3–247.2.
86. Si tu pan· chen Chos kyi ‘byung gnas, Sgrub brgyud karma kam · tshang brgyud pa
rin po che’i rnam par thar pa rab ‘byams nor bu zla ba chu shel gyi phreng ba (New Delhi:
D. Gyaltsan and Kesang Legshay, 1971), 259.4.
87. Si tu pan· chen, Gser phreng, 260–63.
88. Mtshung med chos rgyal Phun tshogs bkra shis dpal bzang po’s biography in
Che tshang sprul sku, ‘Bri gung gdan rabs, 219–31, describes this figure’s birth as having
been prophesied by Zhig po gling pa. Moreover, both the biography in ‘Bri gung gdan
rabs and Zhig po gling pa’s biography describe a close student/disciple relationship
between these two figures.
89. The Sixth Zhwa dmar’s biography (Si tu pan · chen, Gser phreng, 255–99) pro-
vides copious details concerning the Sixth Zhwa dmar’s trips to neighboring states as
diplomatic envoy for the Gtsang rulers.
90. Bsod nams tshe ring, ed., Snga rabs bod kyi srid khrims, 167.
91. For the location of Zab bu valley see note 18.
92. Nag tshang is known as one of the “Four Communities of Northern Tribes”
(byang rigs sde bzhi) situated north of Dbus and Gtsang. More specifically, it is the region
due north of ‘U yug and Shangs in northern Gtsang. For details on this region see
Wiley, The Geography of Tibet, 88 and 166.
93. Krang dbyi sun, Bod rgya tshig mdzod chen mo, 1453, defines lding as “a com-
munity in a nomadic herding region” (yul ‘brog tsho pa).
94. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 248.4–249.5.
95. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 252. This is the first instance when Sog bzlog
pa recognizes a wholly new political authority on the scale of the Gtsang sde srid
government described in later sources. Sog bzlog pa’s depiction of the Gtsang sde
srid government’s gradual expansion of power is confirmed in the Gtsang sde srid law
code Gtsang pa sde srid dang ka.rma bstan skyong dbang po’i ‘dus su gtan la phab pa’i khrims
yig zhal lce bcu drug (Bsod nams tshe ring, ed., Snga rabs bod kyi srid khrims, 164–219). It
is reported there that the Gtsang sde srid defeat of opposition in western Gtsang (gtsang
stod) occurred only under the leadership of the third Gtsang sde srid (Snga rabs bod kyi
srid khrims, 167). It further states that it was not until the fourth Gtsang sde srid, Karma
Phun tshogs phyogs las rnam rgyal (1586–1632?), that this line was successful in bring-
ing all of Dbus Gtsang under its control (Snga rabs bod kyi srid khrims, 168–69). Gtsang
sde srid rule over all of Gtsang and Dbus was therefore not fully actualized until several
decades after the first Gtsang sde srid Zhing shag pa Karma tshe brtan rdo rje’s seizure
of Bsam grub rtse in 1565.
 representations of efficacy 163

96. Spa rnam lhun grub rtse citadel is situated in Gtsang, east of Gzhis ka rtse
and west of Myang stod. For more details see Wiley, The Geography of Tibet, 70.
97. This episode happened one or two years after the son of Zhing shag pa Karma
tshe brtan rdo rje, Sde srid Gtsang pa Karma bstan srung dbang po’s seizure of Spa
rnams in 1605 during the Gtsang ruler’s gradual march toward Dbus to consolidate the
Tibetan territories east of Gzhis ka rtse. For more details on this event, see Gene Smith’s
entry (www.tbrc.org) for Sde srid Gtsang pa Karma bstan srung dbang po.
98. I am unable to identify this figure with any certainty, but based on his title,
Spyan snga, we can perhaps assume he was a ‘Bri gung Bka’ brgyud lama.
99. Sog bzlog pa, Sog bzlog lo rgyus, 252.4–253.3.
100. The date of 1624 for Sog bzlog pa’s death is based on Lo chen Dharmaśrī’s
(1654–1717) history of the Mdo dgongs ‘dus empowerment lineage, ‘Dus mdo dbang gi spyi
don. There, Lochen states that he passed away sometime after his seventy-third birthday,
in the Wood Rat year of 1624, based on the colophon of Sog bzlog pa’s text ‘Chi ba brtags
bslu’i yi ge composed that year. Unfortunately, this text is no longer extant.
101. The biographies of Padma dkar po and Rje btsun Tāranātha, along with the
biographies of their contemporaries found in Kun dga’ blo gros’s Sa skya gdung rabs kha
skong and Si tu pan· chen Chos kyi ‘byung gnas’s Gser phreng, offer substantial evidence
that during the reign of Gtsang sde srid Phun tshogs rnam rgyal, who probably died
sometime after 1623 (Si tu pan · chen, Gser phreng, 282.6), Gtsang rule was secure enough
domestically to allow for increased diplomatic relations with neighboring states. Despite
the continued presence of separatist elements within Tibet, this nonetheless suggests
that by the middle of the second decade of the seventeenth century, the Gtsang rulers
had more or less successfully consolidated control throughout most of Dbus and
Gtsang.
102. See the Sixth Zhwa dmar’s biography (Si tu pan · chen, Gser phreng, 255–99)
for more details concerning these diplomatic missions.
103. See also the Sixth Zhwa dmar’s biography for specific details concerning
Gtsang diplomacy with Mongol warlords during this period.
104. Sog bzlog pa Blo gros rgyal mtshan, Ma sgom sangs rgyas kyi rtsod spong bla ma
go ‘jo’i dris lan, in Collected Works of Sog bzlog pa Blo gros rgyal mtshan (New Delhi: Sanje
Dorji, 1975) vol. 2, 191–212.
105. The term “hybrid construction” I draw from Mikhail Bakhtin, The Dialogical
Imagination: Four Essays, tr. Caryl Emerson and Michael Holquist (Austin, TX: University
of Texas Press, 1981), 358. There, Bakhtin defines a “hybrid construction” as “a mixture
of two social languages within the limits of a single utterance, an encounter, within the
arena of an utterance, between two different linguistic consciousnesses, separated from
one another by an epoch, by social differentiation or by some other factor.”
106. For the notion of “history as sorcery” I am indebted to Michael Taussig’s
discussion in Shamanism, Colonialism and the Wild Man: A Study in Terror and Healing
(Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1986) 366–92.
This page intentionally left blank
7
The “Calf ’s Nipple”
(Be’u bum) of Ju Mipam
(‘Ju Mi pham)
A Handbook of Tibetan Ritual Magic

bryan j. cuevas

Throughout the centuries there has been enduring anxiety among

Tibetans about certain types of Buddhist practices and the books that
describe them. These are the guarded secrets of Tibetan Buddhism,
Tibet’s occult lore. One major category of such literature in Tibet,
and one that has yet to attract much scholarly attention beyond a few
footnotes, is the be’u bum. This peculiar Tibetan term means “calf ’s
nipple” and implies something that nourishes, something good for
maintaining life and health. As a label for a type of text, the term
seems to be rather old, dating back to at least the eleventh century,
but probably much earlier. Per Sørensen has argued that the term
be’u bum may actually be a corruption, perhaps through homophonic
error, of pe bum (dpe ‘bum) or “collection of exempla, parables” serv-
ing the purposes of edification, instruction, and exhortation.1 In this
light, some have even suggested that the genre label may be an early
Tibetan equivalent of the Chinese bianwen or “transformation text,”
known largely from manuscripts discovered at Dunhuang. These are
texts associated with oral narration accompanied by paintings of the
events described, hence “picture tales” (cf. etoki in Japan, yamapaṭa in
India).2 In his fourteenth-century Mirror Illuminating the Royal Gene-
alogies (Rgyal rabs gsal ba’i me long), Sönam Gyaltsen (Bsod nams rgyal
mtshan, 1312–75) refers to 108 picture texts bearing the title be’u bum
that were supposedly used in the consecration of the Lhasa Jokhang
166 tibetan ritual

(Jo khang) temple during the reign of Songtsen Gampo (Srong btsan sgam
po, ca. 605–50).3 Here it is clear that these be’u bum were a type of model book
depicting images of protective deities and religious heroes from Buddhist tales
and legends. It is recorded that these books of images were used as a point
of reference for painting various murals inside the temple. We assume that
some of the Buddhist tales and legends depicted in such books were derived
from stories that were also narrated orally and sung by professional bards
(episodes from the Jātaka, for example). The tradition of public oral recita-
tion of the deeds of Buddhas and famous heroes hearkens back to the earliest
recorded period in Tibetan history when the great ruling families relied on
professional minstrels to preserve and transmit the clan’s genealogies and the
records of past glories. R. A. Stein and others have suggested that from the
eleventh century onward the old oral tales of the bardic storytellers (sgrung,
lde’u) gave shape to and were incorporated into “an edifying literature of anec-
dotes and moral maxims” that preserved a large body of popular ancient lore,
some elements of which were indigenous to Tibet and others inherited from
India.4 From the eleventh century onward a great many of these anecdotes
and proverbs began to be incorporated into collections bearing the name be’u
bum. One of the most famous of such collections is the eleventh-century Blue
Calf’s Nipple (Be’u bum sngon po) by Dölpa Sherab Gyatso (Dol pa Shes rab
rgya mtsho, 1059–1131), which comprises sayings of the early Kadampa (Bka’
gdams pa) teachers, and is linked both by content and structure to the genre
of lojong (blo sbyong), “mental training,” and by extension also to the lam rim,
or “stages of the path.”5
But the term be’u bum covers more than just these little model books of
edifying tales and good advice. The label was also used early on to identify a
type of practical handbook compiling a variety of useful prescriptions drawn
from both oral and written sources. In some of these little volumes we find
instructions for the production of medicines and the treatment of disease—an
example being the be’u bum of the fourteenth-century physician of Drongtsé
(‘Brong rtse), Lhabtsün Rinchen Gyatso (Lha btsun Rin chen rgya mtsho).6
In other books we find collections of charms, incantations, and elaborate dia-
grams for conjuring spirits and executing a variety of magical rites, such as
the early twelfth-century be’u bum of Bari Lotsāwa (Ba ri lo tsā ba, 1040–1111).7
So what is it that unites the variant types of Tibetan text bearing the unusual
label “calf ’s nipple”? In all cases, it would appear that the Tibetan be’u bum are
compilations of useful material, perhaps we might even say recipes, selectively
assembled from an array of sources to be quickly accessible and readily on
hand for the purpose of educating and inspiring, or for performing operations
that can either help or harm. And this leads us to the main focus of the present
 the “calf’s nipple” ( be’u bum ) of ju mipam 167

chapter, on the be’u bum as a handbook of Tibetan practical magic, a Tibetan

grimoire as it were. Here I wish to briefly consider the category of ritual magic
and its practice in Tibet as documented in one particular magical be’u bum
from the early twentieth century: the Calf ’s Nipple of the Nyingma polymath,
Mipam Namgyal (Mi pham rnam rgyal, 1846–1912).

Mipam’s Be’u ‘bum

Described as “one of the most imaginative and versatile minds to appear in the
Tibetan tradition,”8 a “luminary of the nineteenth century Rnying ma renais-
sance and ris med ecumenical movement,”9 and “an indefatigable scholar,
debater, and meditator,”10 Mipam has secured in the eyes of many students
of Tibetan Buddhism a rare and lofty position among a select group of Tibet’s
most recognizable Buddhist intellectual figures. To date, scholars interested in
Mipam have been largely attracted to his philosophical work, his writings on
emptiness and other Madhyamaka conundrums, and his polemical defenses
of Nyingma scholasticism.11 Although most have acknowledged in passing
Mipam’s skill in more practical matters—his mastery of the arts and sciences,
his interest in Tibetan folk traditions, and his proficiency in astrology, divina-
tion, magic, and sorcery—with only one recent exception, few seem to have
been interested in this aspect of Mipam’s work, or at least not curious enough
to study these particular writings or to assess the significance of this work vis-
à-vis his more abstract scholastic output.12 Here I hope to contribute something
to this alternative project by introducing one of the more intriguing of Mipam’s
nonphilosophical works.
Three versions exist of Mipam’s Calf ’s Nipple [Handbook] of Magic Rites and
Spells. A Good Treasure Pot from which Emerges All that is Needed and Desired (Las
sna tshogs pa’i sngags kyi be’u bum dgos ‘dod kun ‘byung gter gyi bum pa bzang po):
two manuscript editions reproduced in the 1970s through the United States
Public Law 480 program, and a modern typeset edition recently published in
Hong Kong.13 The text was not included in Mipam’s Collected Works (Gsung
‘bum), as it was never intended for wide distribution. The tradition keeps
books of this sort secret, and attempts to restrict their distribution, presum-
ably because the books themselves are believed to be as dangerously potent as
the magical rites they contain. The Calf ’s Nipple [Handbook] of Magic Rites and
Spells was compiled in 1907 and is one of three be’u bum attributed to Mipam—
the other two being his Handbook of Illusions (Sgyu ma’i be’u bum), compiled in
1904, and the Introductory Handbook (Lde mig be’u bum), which to my knowl-
edge is not extant. The reason Mipam put these handbooks together and under
168 tibetan ritual

what circumstances is unclear. I have yet to find extended reference to the texts
in his biographies and, aside from the compiling dates, the colophons provide
no relevant information.
Mipam’s Calf ’s Nipple is devoted to a series of abbreviated magic rites,
totaling to approximately 225 individual operations (see table at the end of this
chapter). All the ritual actions fall into three main categories grouped appropri-
ately according to their basic functions: (Group 1) protection and pacification,
(Group 2) enhancement and augmentation, and (Group 3) subjugation and
control. These categories should be familiar to most students of Tibetan ritual
as comprising three of the standard set of four mundane rites, simply called
the “four actions” (las bzhi): (1) pacification (zhi), (2) augmentation (rgyas), (3)
subjugation (dbang), and (4) ferocity (drag). Technically speaking, and in typical
Buddhist fashion, the four actions are distinguished not by their specific ritual
performance, but by their intended goals. Gönpo Wangyal’s (Mgon po dbang
rgyal) recent Dictionary of Buddhist Enumerations (Chos kyi rnam grangs) lists the
fundamental purpose of each of the four activities as follows: “[1] Pacification
of illness and demonic obstructions; [2] augmentation of lifespan, merit, and
pleasures; [3] control over the three realms; and [4] the fierce actions of killing,
dividing, and paralyzing.”14 These four activities, characterized as “lower acts”
(smad las), designate a wide assortment of ritual actions, including those that
some might call “magical,” and function in contrast to the so-called higher acts
(stod las) that have liberation from saṃsāra as their goal. There are abundant
primary resources on the topic of the four actions in Buddhist Sanskrit and
Tibetan literature, and a relatively thorough treatment in secondary scholar-
ship, particularly in terms of the relationship of the four acts to the standard
“six acts” (Skt. śaṭkarmāṇi) of Hinduism and the Indian tantric traditions.15
The topic is extremely complex and impossible to review in this short study.
Instead, I wish to comment briefly on the basic character of these ritual activi-
ties, as well as on the category of Tibetan practical magic in general and its
terminology, as reflected in Mipam’s little handbook. Let us start with magic.

Tibetan Magic

In what follows I cannot address the long, convoluted history of the term magic
or the huge theoretical questions surrounding it—whether magic exists or can
be defined, whether the term is useful as a category of analysis outside a Euro-
pean framework, how magic relates to religion and to science, and so on—but
I do want to point out that Tibetans do have an understanding of “magic” as
a definitive category of knowledge and expertise, and that their understanding
 the “calf’s nipple” ( be’u bum ) of ju mipam 169

does not differ all that greatly from the definitions of anthropologists and intel-
lectual historians beginning with James Frazer (1854–1941). It was Frazer who,
extending the insights of E. B. Tylor (1832–1917), made familiar the idea that
all magic is based on the law of sympathy; that is, the assumption that things
act on one another at a distance because of being linked together by invisible
bonds.16 Sympathetic magic is governed by two basic principles, imitation and
contagion. Perfect examples of imitative or mimetic magic in Tibetan prac-
tice are the forming of the liṅga—molded effigies in the likeness of an enemy
or designs drawn on paper into which the practitioner directs the divine or
demonic powers that he controls (see Figure 7.1).17 Contagious magic may be
exemplified by wrapping this liṅga in a piece of cloth procured from some gar-
ment owned by the object of the ritual or by the intended victim in the belief that
some essence of the person wears off on, and abides in his or her clothing.18
We can further subdivide the magical laws of sympathy into the laws of
similarity, antipathy, and contiguity. The law of similarity, as just illustrated,
rests on the assumption that “like attracts like,” “like produces like,” also “like
cures like” (homeopathy); this is the “analogy of attraction” in Tambiah’s termi-
nology.19 The law of antipathy rests on the assumption that the application of a
certain material object—a plant, herb, mineral, drug, etc.—expels its contrary.
And the law of contiguity is based on the notion that whatever once formed part
of an object continues to form part of it; the parts relating to the whole through
an operation of synecdoche. So if the ritualist can obtain a portion of a woman’s
hair, for example, he can begin to manipulate her through the invisible bonds
that are supposed to extend between the woman and the hair in his possession.
Another example well-known in Tibet, and dramatically illustrated, for instance,
in episodes from the epic of Gesar (Ge sar), is that if the animal totem of an
enemy—or an analogous mountain (bla ri), tree (bla shing), or stone (bla rdo),
turquoise (bla g.yu) in particular—can be damaged or retrieved, in effect weak-
ening the enemy’s soul or la (bla), then that enemy can be in a sympathetic

figure 7.1. Examples of liṅga used for silencing gossip from Mipam’s Calf ’s Nipple
(texts A and B).
170 tibetan ritual

manner constrained or even destroyed.20 Another widespread belief, which we

find represented throughout Mipam’s handbook, is that a person’s name (bla
dwags) can be used to gain control over him. The assumption here is that the
name of an individual and the individual himself are identical. The spells (Skt.
dhāraṇī, Tib. gzungs) and mantras in rites of magic, and in tantric practices more
broadly, are connected with this idea,21 and we know, of course, that with these
acoustic formulas are associated the gestures of mudrā, which are also mimetic
in function and tend to accentuate the spoken word during ritual.22
These laws of sympathy, as well as the system of correlations they pre-
sume, are very clearly evoked in a common Tibetan word for magic, lé-jor
(las sbyor). This is the term often used in designating the four actions. Lé (las)
simply means “action” (karma in Sanskrit); jor (sbyor, from the verb sbyar) “to
join, affix,” means a bond, a connection. Together, lé-jor translates literally
as an “action of correlation” or “correspondent action,” perhaps even “sym-
pathetic action.” Sanskrit equivalents are karma yoga (practical application),
karma bandha (bonds of action), and even karma nibandha (the consequence
of actions). So with this we see that magic exists in Tibet as a definitive cat-
egory, designated by the term lé-jor, and that in Tibet magic as a category is
understood to turn on an ideology of correspondence, of sympathy. In Mipam’s
age, to be sure, few in Tibet would have ever doubted that it was possible for
someone to ritually manipulate and coerce other people, animals, spirits, and
so forth; and various techniques for achieving these ends were recognized and
instituted, some indigenous to Tibet and others derived from traditions long
established in India and China. In Tibet’s traditional religious imaginaire, as is
well-known, cosmos and human being were understood as integrated at mul-
tiple levels and all operating interdependently within a vast organic network
of macro- and microcosmic correspondences—in Buddhist terms, the law of
interdependent causality (Skt. pratītyasamutpāda). Among the myriad macro-
cosmic influences widely thought in particular to affect the microcosmic lives
of human beings were the planets and stars (gza’ skar), as well as a host of
divine and demonic forces of the earth and sky, embodied as gods and spirits
(lha ‘dre).23 These correspondences, astrological influences (rtsis), and divine
and demonic energies gave meaning to human affairs, good and bad, and did
well to explain the functioning (and malfunctioning) of the world and society.
It was also commonly assumed that all this could be manipulated, and that
harmonies between levels could be sympathetically exploited by anyone who
could recognize the correlations and know precisely how the system worked.
Indeed, it was conventional wisdom in Tibet that there had always been special-
ists who knew these secrets and had actually developed the skills to effectively
work the cosmos for their own ends, to provide assistance or to inflict harm.
 the “calf’s nipple” ( be’u bum ) of ju mipam 171

Mipam’s Calf ’s Nipple [Handbook] of Magic Rites and Spells is a product of this
worldview. It operates within the same systematic conceptual framework and
renders practical this sense of magic as encompassing the laws of sympathy,
of a science of correspondences (and I invoke science here intentionally), and
of the possibility of the very real manipulation of cosmos and human being. So
what do we find inside this little magical book?

Structure and Content of Mipam’s Be’u ‘bum

As noted earlier, the Calf ’s Nipple is broken up into three main sections, with
rites and spells grouped according to their basic functions. The first section
deals with rites of pacification, which are basically rites of healing and protec-
tion. It is the longest section, compiling approximately 111 individual operations.
Among the rites and spells of this group we find in Mipam’s text are means
to be used against snakes, rodents, bedbugs, insects in the fields, bandits and
thieves, fever and plagues, ghosts (shi ‘dre) and possessing demons (gson ‘dre),
and catastrophes of nature such as snow, fog, wind, and rain. There are also
protective measures for pregnant women, embryos, and infants, and a num-
ber of ways to become invisible and to effect release from captivity. For these
measures, Mipam draws on an array of scriptural sources, including various
canonical and noncanonical tantras, and operations extracted from indigenous
“treasures” (gter ma). Some of the more repeated sources in this section include
the Mahākāla Tantra (Nag po chen po’i rgyud),24 the Caṇḍamahāroṣana Tantra
(Gtum po dpa’ gcig gi rgyud),25 the Maṇibhadra-yakṣasena-kalpa (Gnod sbyin nor bu
bzang po’i rtog pa) and accompanying dhāraṇī 26; also tantras from the Collected
Tantras of the Ancients (Rnying ma rgyud ‘bum), such as the Tantra of the Mir-
ror of Magical Display (Sgyu ‘phrul me long gi rgyud),27 the Tantra of All Activities
(Las thams cad pa’i rgyud)28; and the treasures of the celebrated visionaries (gter
ston) Sangyé Lingpa (Sangs rgyas gling pa, 1340–96), Ratna Lingpa (Ratna gling
pa, 1403–1478), Pema Lingpa (Padma gling pa, 1450–1521), and Namchö Min-
gyur Dorje (Gnam chos Mi ‘gyur rdo rje, 1645–67) (see Figure 7.2).
Section two covers rites and spells for enhancement and augmentation,
comprising about 64 individual operations. They may be used for any of a
variety of purposes—to increase merit, buildup physical strength, prolong life,
enhance the pleasures of living, sharpen intelligence, develop swift feet, win
arguments and defuse sarcasm and ridicule, win at archery or at a game of
dice. Included are also means to help detect thieves and recover stolen goods,
to determine the location of hidden treasure, and to develop clairvoyance. So in
short, this group of rites is intended to enhance the body and mind—physical
172 tibetan ritual

figure 7.2. Diagrams for protection and augmentation from Mipam’s Calf ’s
Nipple (text B).

strength, dexterity, and speed; pleasant and persuasive speech, and rhetorical
skills; clarity and depth of vision (while awake and during sleep), perspicu-
ity, mindfulness, and so forth. Associated with these last measures we also
find in this section various means of catoptromancy or divination with mirrors
(pra dbab/phab).29 Again, Mipam gathers these particular rites and spells from
numerous sources, many of them from the same works cited in the first sec-
tion, but with the addition of scriptures like the canonical Yamāri/Yamāntaka
tantras (Gshin rje’i gshed kyi rgyud),30 and from the Collected Tantras of the
Ancients, the Tantra of the Old Flat-maned Hayagrīva (Rta mgrin rngog ma leb
rgan gyi rgyud).31
The third and shortest section, comprising approximately fifty-one opera-
tions, details various rites and spells for control and subjugation. These include,
in my opinion, some of the most interesting operations in Mipam’s handbook,
and ones that perhaps most closely resemble what we tend to think of as magic
or even sorcery. The overall purpose of these measures is to manipulate living
beings, to bring others under one’s control. In this sense, we might broadly char-
acterize the activities of subjugation as psychological in their intent because they
aim to influence people’s minds or constrain their wills—actions, for example,
to gain the favor of kings and queens, to demoralize one’s enemies, to arouse the
love of a woman, or to persuade or coerce a potential tantric consort. From one
perspective, these actions to control others could be seen as narcissistic and rather
hostile toward others, so much so that we might be tempted to react to these prac-
tices as some sort of “black magic.”32 From another angle, Tibetan literature on
this subject (including Mipam’s Calf ’s Nipple) does tend to make a clear distinc-
tion between these actions of control and those measures that are more overtly
hostile. The latter comprise the standard fourth group of magical acts, namely,
fierce destructive rites (drag po mngon spyod gyi las sbyor, Skt. abhicāra)—Buddhist
 the “calf’s nipple” ( be’u bum ) of ju mipam 173

sorcery in the truest sense of the term—which as a ritual category Mipam explic-
itly chooses not to include in his little handbook.33 This means there are no rites
or spells in Mipam’s Calf ’s Nipple aimed at killing (bsad) or “liberating” (bsgral),34
expelling (bskrad), or suppressing (mnan).35 For the record, there are be’u bum
that do contain such rituals—for example, the tenth-century Handbook of the
Moon’s Mystery (Zla gsang be’u bum), known also as Yama’s Handbook (Gshin rje
be’u bum), by Nubchen Sangyé Yeshé (Gnub chen Sangs rgyas ye shes) and Jam-
pel Shenyen (‘Jam dpal bshes gnyen) (see Figure 7.3), or more recently, the politi-
cally controversial and widely banned Handbook of Dorjé Shugden (‘Jam mgon
rgyal ba gnyis pa’i bstan srung rgyal chen rdo rje shugs ldan rtsal gyi chos skor be bum)
compiled by Trijang Lozang Yeshé Tendzin Gyatso (Khri byang Blo bzang ye
shes bstan ‘dzin rgya mtsho, 1901–81).36 But although Mipam admits to exclud-
ing methods for killing, expelling, and suppressing other people or for inflicting
physical harm on them, he does nevertheless include at the end of his hand-
book a few so-called minor (phran tshegs) operations that he identifies as wrathful
acts—for example, means used to paralyze wild animals, to bind thieves, and
measures to deal with disrespectful women. In the earliest version of the text we
have (text A), this last section of minor rites is rather extensive, providing mul-
tiple operations for harming and turning away one’s enemies, as well as a host
of erotic techniques to coerce women into sex using a mysterious enchantment
Mipam calls “vagina power” (stu mthu).

figure 7.3. Illustrations for the practice of Buddhist sorcery, taken from Yama’s
Handbook.
174 tibetan ritual

Tibetan Sorcery

So what are the differences between the ritual actions of subjugation (dbang)
and those of assault (drag)? Or another way to ask the question, using perhaps
a more familiar but equally vague terminology: What is the difference between
magic and sorcery in Tibet? While acknowledging that terms like these have a
tendency to be thrown about indiscriminately, we might look for one key differ-
ence in Tibetan practice between magic and sorcery in the explicit and implicit
motivation of the ritualist and in the intended outcome of the operation. This
relates to the state of mind of the performer and also to the ultimate purpose of
the performance, but not to the specific techniques utilized in the performance
itself. Those procedures are all basically the same for each of the four actions—
for example, the use of certain spells and mantras, plants, and other material
substances, diagrams, effigies, talismans, and so on. And, as I have already
suggested, all these types of ritual are performed in line with the analogical
principles of sympathy. So we return to motivations and attitudes.
In actions of subjugation, the magician is not overtly hostile and antici-
pates that the intended subject or victim (bsgrub bya) of his rites and incanta-
tions will in the end be attracted to him without feeling harmed in any way. In
destructive rites, we presume, the attitude of the sorcerer is explicitly hostile,
perhaps also angry, hateful, or jealous, and he aims to harm the object of his
wrath, causing all manner of mental and physical suffering, even death. But
the attitude of the ritualist in this latter case may not be as antagonistic as the
extreme nature of the actions would seem to indicate, and thus distinctions
of attitude or distinctions between friendly and unfriendly intent may not be
the most accurate gauge of the differences between the two types of ritual.
The literature that describes aggressive rites invariably justifies such actions
as acceptable, forceful but benevolent, by acknowledging that there are in fact
legitimate persons against whom violent rites and spells may be performed;
these are individuals who are thought to be profoundly deluded or confused,
and hence in need of immediate and dramatic help (an intervention, in today’s
terminology). They are included among the so-called ten fields (zhing bcu)
worthy of “liberation”—those who subvert the teachings of the Buddha, for
example.37 From this point of view, rites of assault are only to be executed with
the purest of compassionate intentions, as any good bodhisattva savior would,
and only by practitioners with the requisite skill to lead the “liberated” victim’s
consciousness to a Buddha’s pure land. But the warning always follows: the
sorcerer without this skill or without the right motivation is assured a rebirth
in the lowest hell.38 A ritualist of such corrupt character, the tradition assumes,
 the “calf’s nipple” ( be’u bum ) of ju mipam 175

must certainly be practicing a very sinister sort of magic; a maleficium so evil

it transcends categorization, unable even to find its place in the fluid typol-
ogy of the four actions. Perhaps, then, to stay within the accepted categorical
boundaries, we might better express the distinction between magic and sorcery
in Tibet as a difference of function between attraction (‘gugs pa) and repulsion
(bzlog pa).
So, in the end it is understandable why the tradition tries to keep these
books secret and restricts their distribution. No one wants an arsenal of poten-
tially deadly rites and spells to end up in the hands of the wrong people. The
irony, of course, is that this pretense to secrecy tends always to pique popu-
lar interest, resulting in almost certain diffusion. But, nevertheless, why were
these books compiled? Why did Mipam, the consummate scholar and lumi-
nary of the nineteenth-century ecumenical movement, put together a magical
cookbook like this in the first place? What was the process that led to it being
copied and circulated in manuscript form so that someone like me could one
day check it out from a university library or buy a modern paperback edition
from a bookstore in Lhasa? These are important historical questions that must
await future consideration. For now I will assume that books of this sort filled
with an array of occult techniques were produced in Tibet for actual use, and
that the “calf ’s nipple,” the be’u bum, offered a particularly convenient reposi-
tory of practical information for that purpose.

The Rites of Magic in Mipam’s Be’u bum (1907)

Text A: manuscript belonging to B. Jamyang Norbu. New Delhi, 1972.
Text B: manuscript belonging to Lama Jurme Drakpa. New Delhi, 1974.
Text C: modern typeset edition. Hong Kong, 1999.
No. Purpose Text

I. Pacification and Protection

1. For maintaining happiness A:4.1; B:79.2; C:1

2. Protective measures against harm [caused by] various A:5.4; B:80.3; C:2
living creatures
3. Protection against poisonous snakes A:9.4.; B:83.1; C:5
4. Protection against rabbits in the fields A:10.2; B:83.4; C:5
5. Protection against hooved animals A:11.3; B:84.2; C:6
6. Protection against insects in the fields A:11.4; B:84.3; C:6
7. For clearing away other [types of] insects A:12.3; B:85.2; C:7
8. Protection against lotus[-shaped] body parasites A:14.6; B:87.3; C:9
9. Protection against bedbugs A:15.1; B:87.3; C:9
10. For appeasing jackals A:17.2; B:89.3; C:11
11. For protecting sheep against jackals A:17.3; B:89.3; C:11
12. For protecting horses and cattle against the harm of A:18.4; B:90.2; C:12
carnivorous animals

(Continued )
176 tibetan ritual

(Continued )
NO . Purpose Text

14. For clearing away little mice, rats, and birds inside the house A:24.6; B:95.4;
C:14–15
15. Protection against ghosts and demons A:29.3; B:99.4; C:15
16. Protective measures against obstacles and faults A:30.4; B:100.5; C:16
17. Māra’s protection [against demonic obstacles] A:31.4; B:101.5; C:17
18. Maheśvara’s protective knots A:35.2; B:104.4; C:19
19. Maheśvara’s protective threads A:37.2; B:106.2; C:20
20. Protection against bad luck A:38.1; B:106.5; C:21
21. Protection against obstacles A:39.1; B:107.4; C:21
22. Protective measures against bandits, etc. A:40.1; B:108.3; C:22
23. For protecting one’s wealth, horses, and cattle A:54.1; B:119.3; C:30
24. For binding thieves A:56.4; B:121.3; C:31
25. For binding enemies and thieves A:57.3; B:121.6; C:32
26. Protection against enemies on the road A:59.4; B:123.5; C:32
27. For reversing bad directions A:60.1; B:124.2; C:33
28. For achieving invisibility A:60.5; B:124.5; C:33
29. Wand of invisibility (sgrib shing) for wherever one goes, for A:64.2; B:127.5; C:36
not being seen by carnivorous animals, bandits, etc.
30. Padmasambhava’s wand of invisibility A:67.1; B:130.1; C:37
31. For concealing one’s consort during secret practices A:68.2; B:131.1; C:38
32. For protecting one’s wealth from thieves A:70.4; B:133.1; C:40
33. For achieving invisibility A:70.6; B:133.3; C:40
34. Padmasambhava’s wand of invisibility A:71.2; B:133.5; C:40
35. For concealing a talisman A:80.2; B:140.6; C:41
36. For protecting one’s reserves (sris), yoghurt, and beer, etc. A:82.4; B:143.1; C:43
37. Protection against ghosts A:82.6; B:143.3; C:43
38. For protecting one’s reserves against thieves A:83.1; B:143.4; C:44
39. For protecting [supplies of] yoghurt and beer A:83.3; B:143.6; C:44
40. Pha dam pa’s yoghurt protection A:83.6; B:144.1; C:44
41. For not giving away cow’s milk A:85.4; B:145.4; C:45
42. For protecting [one’s supply of] beer A:87.5; B:147.1; C:46
43. Protective measures against animals A:90.2; B:148.6; C:48
44. Pacification of evil oaths and counteractive measures against A:94.1; C:49
curses
45. For [causing one] to fall asleep and counteractive measures A:96.1; B:152.4; C:51
[against such method]
46. For insomnia due to [the influence of] demons, etc. A:96.5; B:153.1; C:51
47. For protecting sleep A:97.5; B:153.6; C:52
48. For protecting the seminal drop, the womb, and women A:99.2; B:155.2; C:53
49. For protecting the climbing seminal drop A:99.5; B:155.4; C:53
50. For protecting one’s own woman against other men A:100.2; B:156.1; C:54
51. Protection against adultery A:100.5; B:156.4; C:54
52. For contraception A:104.1; B:159.1; C:55
53. For protecting children from crying A:104.5; B:159.5; C:56
54. Protective measures against plagues of men and livestock A:105.4; B:160.2; C:56
and against wild animals
55. Protection against plagues of men and livestock A:106.4; B:161.2; C:57
 the “calf’s nipple” ( be’u bum ) of ju mipam 177

56. For curing plagues that have already occurred A:108.1; B:162.5; C:58
57. For entrapping wild animals A:108.6; B:163.3; C:58
58. For muzzling hunting dogs A:109.3; B:163.6; C:59
59. For binding the kill of the hunt A:109.5; B:164.2; C:59
60. For breaking free of restrictive bindings A:110.2; B:164.4; C:59
61. For releasing iron [chains] A:113.2; B:167.1;
C:60–2
62. For calming anger A:116.1; B:169.5; C:62
63. Pacification of contamination and illness A:117.5; B:171.1; C:63
64. For misgivings about tainted food and dirty clothing A:118.1; B:171.4; C:63
65. Protection against the impurity of corrupt [behavior] and A:118.2; B:171.5–6;
release [from such impurity] C:63
66. Protection against impurity A:118.5; B:172.2; C:64
67. For increasing the variety of mantras that cure illness A:119.6; B:173.3; C:64
68. Edible letters for pacification (zhi ba’i za yig) A:126.1; B:174.5; C:65
69. Protection against poison A:128.4; B:176.3; C:67
70. Protective measures against weapons, planetary demons, etc. A:130.6; B:176.4; C:67
71. For muzzling rifles A:132.2; B:179.6; C:68
72. Protection against planetary obstacles A:135.2; B:181.2; C:69
73. For curing planetary illnesses A:135.6; B:181.6; C:70
74. Protection against king demons A:138.2; B:184.3; C:72
75. Protection against disturbance by demons (rgyal, A:139.1; B:185; C:72
bsen,’byung-po)
76. Protection against harm of serpent deities A:139.4; B:185.1; C:73
77. Protection against harmful ghosts and possessing demons A:141.3; B:186.5; C:73
78. Protection against zombies A:141.5; B:187.1; C:73
79. For calling birds to a corpse A:142.1; B:187.3; C:74
80. Protective measures against other harms B:188.3; C:75
81. For severe fever or omens of impending death A:143.2; B:189.4; C:76
82. For repelling and protecting against apparent enemies A:143.6; B:189.6; C:76
83. Protective measures against fear of the elements, etc. A:146.2; B:192.1; C:78
84. Protection against fear of fire A:146.2; B:192.2; C:78
85. Protection against harm [caused by] fire A:146.6; B:192.4; C:78
86. Protection against water spirits A:149.5; B:194.5; C:78
87. Protection against snow and rain A:152.6; B:197.5; C:79
88. For stopping rain and snow A:153.3; B:198.2; C:80
89. For clearing fog A:154.1; B:198.5; C:81
90. Protection against wind A:154.5; B:199.3; C:81
91. For controlling wind A:154.6; B:199.4; C:81
92. For suppressing wind spirits A:155.6; B:200.1; C:81
93. For riding Vayu’s deer A:156.3; B:200.3; C:82
94. For summoning wind A:159.1; B:202.5; C:84
95. Protective measures against annual threats such as A:160.4; B:203.6; C:85
meteorological [events], hailstorms, etc.
96. Protection against lightning and thunder A:161.6; B:204.6; C:85
97. Protection against untimely frost A:163.5; B:206.2; C:87
98. Coincidence upon the sudden gathering of clouds A:164.4; B:207.1; C:87
99. Protection against hailstorms A:165.2; B:207.4; C:88
100. For turning back hailstorms A:165.6; B:208.1; C:88

(Continued )
178 tibetan ritual

(Continued )
NO . Purpose Text

102. For turning back floods [*1 in list of five] A:169.2; B:210.4; C:90
103. Protection against loss of young livestock [ *2 in list of five] A:169.6; B:211.2; C:90
104. Protection against “enemy years” (lo dgra) [ *3 in list of five] A:170.5; B:211.6; C:91
105. Protection against changelings [ *4 in list of five] A:171.4; B:212.4; C:92
106. Protection against thunder called “sky-enemy” [ *5 in list of A:172.4; B:213.3; C:92
five]
107. For averting nightmares and reversing negative astrological A:174.2; B:214.5; C:93
[signs]
108. For restricting gossip and slander A:182.3; B:220.1; C:97
109. For turning back gossip and slander A:183.2; B:220.6; C:98
110. For instantly turning back curses and evil omens A:178.6*; B:221.5; C:98
111. For pacifying all faults A:184.2; B:223.1; C:100

II. Enhancement and Augmentation

1. For enhancing the pleasures of life and merits A:187.6; B:225.2; C:103
2. For prolonging life A:188.1; B:225.2; C:103
3. For augmenting merit A:192.1; B:228.4; C:105
4. Edible letters for enrichment (rgyas pa’i za yig) A:204.5; B:232.2;
C:108
5. For increasing the wealth of commerce, food, etc. A:198.4*; B:237.5; C:111
6. For protecting children and “turning the navel” (lte bsgyur) A:222.2*; B:242.4; C:115
7. For [causing] the existent to descend, turning its navel A:224.6; B:244.6;
[=controlling its sex], and nourishing the womb C:116
8. For [augmenting] conception and [fetal] development A:225.3; B:245.2; C:116
9. For turning the navel A:229.1*; B:245.6;
C:117
10. For increasing physical strength A:210.4; B:252.5; C:121
11. For obtaining a pleasant voice A:214.5; B:256.1; C:124
12. For increasing intelligence A:217.4; B:259.3; C:124
13. For meeting friends and achieving wishes A:248.5*; B:261.4;
C:126
14. For loving all people A:249.2; B:261.6;
C:127
15. For meeting pleasant friends wherever you are B:262.2; C:127
16. For achieving all goals whatever they are and whenever A:251.2; B:263.1; C:127
17. For swift-footedness, discovering treasures, and shape-shifting A:301.3*; B:269.2;
C:132
18. For swift-footedness A:301.3; B:269.2; C:132
19. For finding underground treasures A:305.2; B:271.5; C:134
20. For seeing clearly in thick darkness A:306.1; B:272.2; C:135
21. For swimming [like a fish] and flying like a bird A:306.3; B:272.4; C:135
22. For changing bodies A:307.1; B:273.1; C:135
23. For [creating] rain and fog [etc.] A:233.3*; B:274.1;
C:136
24. For causing rain A:234.3; B:274.5; C:137
 the “calf’s nipple” ( be’u bum ) of ju mipam 179

25. For bringing fog A:240.2; B:279.5;

C:140
26. For opening springs/fountains A:241.3; B:280.4; C:141
27. For growing flowers A:241.6; B:281.1; C:141
28. For increasing the lease of cattle and [the production of] milk A:243.2; B:282.1; C:142
29. For achieving clairvoyance and [ability] to interpret dreams A:256.5; B:287.5; C:144
30. For [achieving] clear vision B:287.5; C:144
31. For [achieving] clairvoyance A:283.5*; B:288.4;
C:145
32. For clarifying dreams A:264.4; B:289.1;
C:145
33. For seeing everything above and below the earth A:266.2; B:289.3;
C:145
34. For mirror divination A:268.4; B:289.6;
C:146
35. For envisioning the face of one’s tutelary deity and ḍākinīs A:270.2; B:290.4;
C:146
36. For bringing down the blessings of the ḍākinīs B:291.1; C:147
37. For accomplishing dream and meditation training B:291.4; C:147
38. For grasping the meaning of dreams B:292.2; C:148
39. For [achieving] sharp vision, clairvoyance, etc. A:272.5; B:296.1; C:151
40. Ear strap (rna sgrog?) that illuminates clairvoyance A:275.1; B:298.3; C:152
41. For sharp vision A:277.1; B:300.2; C:154
42. For divining [information from a] mirror A:287.5*; B:302.1; C:155
43. Khros [ma] nag [mo]’s mirror divination B:302.1; C:155
44. Dpal ldan lha mo’s mirror divination A:289.3; B:302.5; C:155
45. For achieving the clairvoyance of Lha mo Tshe ring-ma A:278.3*; B:304.1;
C:156
46. For achieving the clairvoyance of the samaya ḍākinīs A:282.1; B:306.1; C:158
47. For identifying thieves A:290.2; B:306.5;
C:158
48. For identifying thieves according to the Brahmanic system A:294.3; B:309.5;
C:160
49. For identifying thieves according to Pha dam pa’s system A:296.3; B:311; C:162
50. For finding [whatever] has been lost [or] destroyed B:313.3; C:162
51. For bringing back wealth stolen by thieves B:313.6; C:162
52. For recovering stolen goods in this and in future lives B:314.5; C:163
53. For assistance [in regaining] wealth that has been stolen B:316.2; C:164
54. For examining the signs of [impending] death B:317.1; C:165
55. For disarming ridicule, winning arguments, etc. A:307.5; B:319.5; C:167
56. For winning arguments A:309.2; B:320.5;
C:167
57. For winning disputes and rising above sarcasm and ridicule B:321.3; C:168
58. For suppressing the speech of enemies B:323.2; C:169
59. For binding the mouths of others B:323.5; C:170
60. For winning quarrels with enemies A:311.2; B:324.4; C:170
61. For winning at dice A:315.3; B:326.6; C:171
62. For winning at archery A:327.1; B:332.2; C:174
63. For conquering all regions A:328.4; B:333.4; C:175

(Continued )
180 tibetan ritual

(Continued )
NO . Purpose Text

III. Subjugation and Control

1. For controlling human beings, hunger, and thirst, etc. A:333.4; B:339.1; C:179
2. For controlling the dharma B:342.6; C:182
3. For coercing kings A:341.1; B:343.2; C:182
4. For coercing queens A:341.3; B:343.3; C:182
5. For pleasing and taking care of all people B:343.5; C:182
6. For [making] all beings obey one’s orders B:343.6; C:182
7. For coercing enemies and exploiting them as servants A:341.5; B:344.2; C:183
8. For coercing living beings B:344.4; C:183
9. For coercing women A:342.5; B:345.2; C:183
10. For pleasing all people and controlling food and drink A:345.4; B:345.5; C:184
11. For controlling appearances B:349.6; C:187
12. For coercing public crowds A:344.5; B:350.4; C:187
13. For coercing others, minor [activities] B:350.6; C:188
14. For controlling women B:351.2; C:188
15. For coercing beautiful women B:351.2; C:188
16. For knowledge about summoning a [tantric] consort A:387.2; B:352.4; C:189
17. For gathering and coercing disciples and consorts B:354.1; C:190
18. For controlling whomever/whatever one wishes B:356.2; C:192
19. For subjugation B:359.5; C:194
20. For stirring up and affecting minds one-pointedly B:360.1; C:195
21. For controlling wealth B:361.1; C:195
22. Edible letters for subjugation (dbang gi za yig) A:351.4; B:361.4; C:196
23. For controlling the three spheres [heaven, earth, netherworld] B:362.4; C:197
24. For summoning the karma ḍākinīs A:389.3; B:366.4;
C:200
25. Iron hook that summons the subjugation of appearances A:391.1; B:367.5;
C:200
26. For controlling friends, food, and wealth A:373.4*; B:369.5;
C:202
27. For coercing ḍākinīs and exploiting them as servants A:360.2; B:370.2;
C:202
28. Instructions of Indian scholars guiding all beings to the B:372.3; C:204
profound dharma
29. For charming all living beings and gathering food for the B:374.2; C:205
ḍākinīs
30. For coercing people B:374.5; C:205
31. For making others reveal their secrets A:403.2; B:378.4;
C:208
32. For bringing people into compliance [with oneself] A:403.4; B:379.1;
C:208
33. Minor activities [belonging to the category of fierce rites] B:380.3; C:209
34. For binding thieves and making them uncomfortable A:407.2; B:380.4;
C:209
35. For paralyzing (stag, male deer, etc.?) A:408.2; B:381.3;
C:210
36. For binding thieves A:410.3; B:382.1; C:210
 the “calf’s nipple” ( be’u bum ) of ju mipam 181

37. For muzzling dogs B:382.4; C:211

38. Very profound binding [activities] B:383.3; C:211
39. For binding others such as enemies, thieves, etc. A:411.5; B:384.1; C:212
40. Bon po instructions on deceiving thieves B:388.5; C:215
41. For deceiving thieves B:389.3; C:216
42. For binding thieves B:390.3; C:217
43. For making people sleepwalk B:391.3; C:217
44. For keeping enemies paralyzed temporarily A:418.2; B:392.5; C:218
45. For sexual intercourse with a woman A:457.3; B:397.2; C:221
46. For [dealing with] evil and disrespectful women A:456.3; B:398.2;
C:221
47. For transforming demon food B:398.5; C:222
48. For turning away enemies A:430.5–435
49. For dividing enemies and hindering the abilities of evil people A:438.2–452
50. For performing “vagina magic” (stu mthu) on a woman A:454.4–456
51. For [dealing with] enemies and depleting their merit A:458.1–470

IV. Destruction

Note: Harmful acts, such as ritual killing, expulsion, divisiveness, suppression, etc. are not dis-
cussed [see III.33–51]

notes
1. Per Sørensen, Tibetan Buddhist Historiography—The Mirror Illuminating the
Royal Genealogies: An Annotated Translation of the XIVth Century Tibetan Chronicle:
rGyal-rabs gsal-ba’i me-long (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1994), 292n892. In fact,
for what it is worth, we do find this spelling, dpe (‘)bum, in the title of the sixteenth-
century be’u bum of the Sixth Zhwa dmar Chos kyi dbang phyug (1584–1630), see Nyer
mkho sna tshogs kyi dpe bum phan de rab ster (Delhi, 1977).
2. For a discussion of bienwen and popular Chinese storytellers, including extended
comparisons across Asia, the Indian yamapaṭa and so on, see Victor H. Mair, Tun-huang
Popular Narratives (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), Painting and
Performance: Chinese Picture Recitation and Its Indian Genesis (Honolulu, HI: University
of Hawai’i Press, 1988), and T’ang Transformation Texts: A Study of the Buddhist
Contribution to the Rise of Vernacular Fiction and Drama in China (Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1989). On etoki and medieval Japanese storytellers, see
Barbara Ruch, “Medieval Jongleurs and the Making of a National Literature,” in Japan
in the Muromachi Age, ed. John W. Hall and Toyoda Takeshi (Berkeley, CA: University
of California Press, 1977), 279–309; Ikumi Kaminishi, Explaining Pictures: Buddhist
Propaganda and Etoki Storytelling in Japan (Honolulu, HI: University of Hawai’i Press,
2006). For consideration of possible examples of the bienwen genre in Tibet, see
Matthew Kapstein, “A Dunhuang Tibetan Summary of the Transformation Text on
Mulian Saving His Mother from Hell,” in Dunhuang wenxian lunji, ed. Hao Chunwen
(Shenyang: Liaoning Renmin Chubanshe, 2001), 235–47, “Mulian in the Land of Snows
and King Gesar in Hell: A Chinese Tale of Parental Death in Its Tibetan Tranformations,”
182 tibetan ritual

in The Buddhist Dead: Practices, Discourses, Representations, ed. Bryan J. Cuevas and
Jacqueline I. Stone (Honolulu, HI: University of Hawai’i Press, 2007), 345–77, and
“The Tibetan Yulanpen jing,” in Contributions to the Cultural History of Early Tibet, ed.
Matthew Kapstein and Brandon Dotson (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 219–46.
3. Bsod nams rgyal mtshan, Rgyal rabs gsal ba’i me long (Beijing: Mi rigs dpe skrun
khang, 1981), 152.
4. R. A. Stein, Tibetan Civilization (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press,
1972), 267; also Ulrike Roesler, “Not a Mere Imitation: Indian Narratives in a Tibetan
Context,” in Facets of Tibetan Religious Tradition and Contacts with Neighbouring Cultural
Areas, ed. Alfredo Cadonna and Ester Bianchi (Firenze: Leo S. Olschki Editore, 2002),
155–57; Sørensen, Tibetan Buddhist Historiography, 582n3.
5. R. A. Stein, Recherches sur l’Épopée et le Barde au Tibet (Paris: Presses
Universitaires, 1959), 475n5; Roesler, “Not a Mere Imitation,” 151n3. For examples of
the genre of blo sbyong, see Thupten Jinpa, Mind Training: The Great Collection (Boston,
MA: Wisdom Publications, 2005); for lam rim, see Tsong-kha-pa, The Great Treatise.
6. Lha btsun Rin chen rgya mtsho, ‘Brong rtse be’u bum/ Man ngag bang mdzod
(Beijing: Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 2005).
7. Ba ri lo tsā ba Rin chen grags, Be’u-bum of Ba-ri Lo-tsā-ba Rin-chen-grags (Delhi,
1974). Only the first work in this collection is explicitly attributed to Ba ri lo tsā ba.
8. E. Gene Smith, Among Tibetan Texts: History and Literature of the Himalayan
Plateau (Boston, MA: Wisdom Publication, 2001), 230.
9. Karma Phuntsho, Mipham’s Dialectics and the Debates on Emptiness: To Be, Not
to Be or Neither (London: Routledge, 2005), 13.
10. John Whitney Pettit, Mipham’s Beacon of Certainty: Illuminating the View of
Dzogchen, the Great Perfection (Boston, MA: Wisdom Publications, 1999), 1.
11. See Steven M. Goodman, “Mi-Pham rgya-mtsho: An Account of His Life, the
Printing of his Works, and the Structure of his Treatise Entitled mKhas-pa’i tshul la ‘jug-
pa’i sgo,” in Wind Horse: Proceedings of the North American Tibetological Society, ed. Ronald
M. Davidson (Berkeley, CA: Asian Humanities Press, 1981), 58–78; Leslie S. Kawamura,
“An Analysis of Mi-pham’s mKhas-‘jug,” in Wind Horse, ed. Davidson, 112–26, “An
Outline of Yāna-Kauśalya in Mi-pham’s mKhas-‘jug,” Indogaku Bukkyōgaku Kenkyū,
29/1(1981): 956–61, and “The Akṣayamatinirdeśasūtra and Mi-pham’s mKhas-jug,” in
Contributions on Tibetan and Buddhist Philosophy, ed. E. Steinkellner and H. Tauscher
(Vienna: Arbeitkreis für Tibetische und Buddhistische Studien Universität Wien, 1983),
131–45; Kennard Lipman, “A Controversial Topic from Mi-pham’s Analysis of
Śāntarakṣita’s Madhyamakālaṃkāra,” in Wind Horse: Proceedings of the North American
Tibetological Society, ed. Ronald M. Davidson (Berkeley, CA: Asian Humanities Press,
1981), 40–57; Katsumi Mimaki, “Le commentaire de Mipham sur le Jñānasārasamuccaya,”
in Indological and Buddhist Studies: Volume in Honour of Professor J.W. De Jong on His
Sixtieth Birthday, ed. L. A. Hercus (Canberra: Australian National University, 1982),
353–76; Matthew Kapstein, “Mi-pham’s Theory of Interpretation,” in Buddhist
Hermeneutics, ed. Donald S. Lopez, Jr. (Honolulu,HI: University of Hawai’i Press, 1988),
149–74; Pettit, Mipham’s Beacon of Certainty; Thomas Doctor, Speech of Delight: Mipham’s
Commentary on Shantarakshita’s Ornament of the Middle Way (Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion,
 the “calf’s nipple” ( be’u bum ) of ju mipam 183

2004); Phuntsho, Mipham’s Dialectics, and his “‘Ju Mi pham rNam rgyal rGya mtsho—
His Position in the Tibetan Religious Hierarchy and a Synoptic Survey of His
Contributions,” in The Pandita and the Siddha: Tibetan Studies in Honor of E. Gene Smith,
ed. Ramon N. Prats (Dharamsala: Amnye Machen Institute, 2007), 191–209.
12. The one welcome exception to this general trend is the recent article by Lin
Shen-yu, “Tibetan Magic for Daily Life: Mi pham’s Texts on gTo-rituals,” Cahiers
d’Extrême-Asie 15 (2005): 107–25. On my more general point, consider Gene Smith’s
comment: “Mi pham belongs to an unusual tradition that goes back at least to Karma
chags med in the seventeenth century. These teachers sought to incorporate into Khams
pa Buddhism the beliefs and folklore treasured by humble nomads and agriculturalists.
These teachers were almost anthropologically oriented . . . Mi pham was also keenly
interested in the practical arts. He was a creative physician. Even if some of the methods
he recommends smack of quackery, we can never accuse him of lacking imagination.
His medical works continue to be highly regarded to this day”; Smith, Among Tibetan
Texts, 231. See also the comments in Phuntsho, Mipham’s Dialectics, 14.
13. Sngags kyi be’u bum [= Las sna tshogs pa’i sngags kyi be’u bum dgos ‘dod kun
‘byung gter gyi bum pa bzang po] (New Delhi, 1972; henceforth A); Sngags kyi be bum [=
Las sna tshogs pa’i sngags kyi be bum dgos ‘dod kun ‘byung gter gyi bum bzang], published
with Sgyu ma’i be bum [= Rdzu ‘phrul sgyu ma’i be bum ngo mtshar stong ldan] compiled
in 1904 (New Delhi, 1974; henceforth B); Las sna tshogs kyi be’u bum [= Las sna tshogs
pa’i sngags kyi be’u bum dgos ‘dod kun ‘byung gter gyi bum pa bzang po] (Hong Kong:
Zhang kang then mā dpe skrun khang, 1999; henceforth C).
14. Mgon po dbang rgyal, Chos kyi rnam grangs shes bya’i nor gling ‘jug pa’i gru
gzings (Delhi, 1993), 116: [1] nad dang gdon bgegs zhi ba/ [2] tshe bsod longs spyod rgyas pa/
[3] khams gsum dbang du ‘du ba/ [4] bsad skrad dbye rengs drag po’i las rnams so.
15. The rites included among the śaṭkarmāṇi are variously listed, but the most common
set is given as follows: (1) pacification (śānti), (2) subjugation (vaśya, vaśīkaraṇa), (3) immobi-
lization (stambhana), (4) causing dissension (vidveṣaṇa), (5) eradication (uccāṭana), and
(6) liquidation/killing (māraṇa). Other activities alternatively listed include: delusion
(mohana), attraction (ākarṣaṇa), acquisition (puṣṭi), agitation (kṣobhaṇa), piercing (kīlana),
oppression (pīḍana), coercion (nigraha), binding/checking (bandhana/pratibandhana),
intimidation (trāsana), kicking (tāḍana), crushing (mardana), devouring (jambhana/
jṛmbhana), dessication (śoṣaṇa), teasing/showing/pleasant pastimes (kautuka/vinoda), mak-
ing sick (vyādhikaraṇa), and power of resuscitation (saṃjīvinī vidyā). See Teun Goudriaan,
Māyā Divine and Human: A Study of Magic and Its Religious Foundations in Sanskrit Texts, with
particular attention to a fragment on Viṣṇu’s Māyā preserved in Bali (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass,
1978); H.G. Türstig, “The Indian Sorcery Called Abhicāra.” Wiener Zeitschrift fur die Kunde
Südasiens 29 (1985): 69–117; Gudrun Bühnemann, “The Six Rites of Magic,” in Tantra in
Practice, ed. David G. White (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), 447–62.
16. James G. Frazer, The Golden Bough: Abridged Edition (1922; reprint, New York:
Penguin, 1998), 13–57. On these categories, Stanley Tambiah has positively noted:
“But there is some molten gold in Frazer’s volcanic overflow. For example, the associa-
tional principles of similarity and contiguity as general features of the human mind
have since Frazer’s time found an elaborated use in other interpretive frameworks
184 tibetan ritual

stripped of their ‘causal’ connotations as applied to magic. Roman Jakobson has fruit-
fully exploited the terms ‘metaphorical and metonymical associations’ in his linguistic
and literary studies, and after him Lévi Strauss has popularized them in the study of
savage thought, particularly in the realm of mythology. In my own essay on ‘The
Magical Power of Words’ [1968] I apply them (I hope productively) in the analysis of
Trobriand ritual”; Magic, Science, Religion, and the Scope of Rationality (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1990), 53. For Frazer, however, the two principles of
magic, similarity and contagion, were mistaken principles that rested on incorrect
assumptions about the laws of nature; magic, in his opinion, was nothing more than
false science.
17. In the dictionary of Dge bshes Chos grags, liṅga (syn. nya bo) is defined as
“whatever serves as a support for the ‘liberation’ of the one named as intended ‘victim’
during [the rite of] liberation [by] secret mantra”; gsang sngags sgrol ba’i skabs su dmigs
yul gyi ming rus can gyi bsgral rten gang yin pa’i linga lta bu; Dge bshes Chos grags, Dge
bshes chos kyi grags pas brtsams pa’i brda dag ming tshig gsal ba (Beijing: Mi rigs dpe
skrun khang, 1995), 303. On Tibetan liṅga, see R. A. Stein, “Le Liṅga des danses mas-
quées lamaïques et la théorie des âmes,” Sino-Indian Studies (Liebenthal Festschrift),
5/3–4 (1957): 200–34; Richard Kohn, Lord of the Dance: The Mani Rimdu Festival in
Tibet and Nepal (Ithaca, NY: State University of New York Press, 2001), 75–78. For brief
instructions on how to construct a liṅga image, see Padma gling pa, Linga bri ba’i yig
chung gsod byed gri gug rgya can, in his Collected Works (Gsung ‘bum), The Rediscovered
Teachings of the Great Padma-gliṅ-pa (Thimphu: Kunsang Tobgay, 1975), vol. 3,
ff. 365.1–367.3.
18. See Mengele’s chapter in this volume for examples of the ways in which such
effigies are used in the context of death-deceiving rituals.
19. Stanley Tambiah, “Form and Meaning of Magical Acts,” in Culture, Thought,
and Social Action: An Anthropological Perspective (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 1985), 67.
20. Consider, for example, Ge sar’s defeat of the demon Klu btsan by first subdu-
ing his “soul residences” (bla gnas), a tree, a lake, a serpent, etc. Also, Ge sar’s defeat of
the Hor by first destroying the “soul stone” (bla rdo) of the kings of that country. The
most convenient summary of the Ge sar epic remains Alexandra David-Neel, The
Superhuman Life of Gesar of Ling (1933; reprint Boston, MA: Shambhala Publications,
1987).
21. Stanley Tambiah, “The Magical Power of Words,” Man 3/2(1968): 175–208.
22. Jan Gonda, “Mudrā,” Studies in the History of Religions 12 (1972): 21–31.
23. Anne-Marie Blondeau, “Le Lha-’dre bKa’-thaṅ,” in Études tibétaines dédiées à la
mémoire de Marcelle Lalou (Paris: Adrien-Maisonneuve, 1971), 29–126. On Tibetan astrol-
ogy, see Alexander Berzin, “An Introduction to Tibetan Astronomy and Astrology,” Tibet
Journal 12/1(1987): 17–28; Philippe Cornu, Tibetan Astrology (Boston, MA: Shambhala,
1997); Gyurme Dorje and Sangye Gyatso, Tibetan Elemental Divination Paintings: Illuminated
Manuscripts from the White Beryl of Sangs-rgyas rGya-mtsho with the Moonbeams Treatise of
Lo-chen Dharmaśrī (London: John Eskenazi in association with Sam Fogg, 2001).
24. Ṣrī Mahākāla Tantra (Tib. ‘Phags pa nag po chen po’i rgyud); Sde dge Bka’ ‘gyur,
Toh. no. 667, Rgyud ba, ff. 199a.6–201b.3.
 the “calf’s nipple” ( be’u bum ) of ju mipam 185

25. Ekavīrākhyā Śrīcaṇḍamahāroṣana Tantrarāja (Tib. Dpal gtum po khro bo chen po’i
rgyud kyi rgyal po dpa’ bo gcig pa); Sde dge Bka’ ‘gyur, Toh. no. 431, Rgyud nga, ff.
304b.1–343a.1.
26. Maṇibhadra Yakṣasena-kalpa (Tib. Gnod sbyin nor bu bzang po’i rtog pa); Sde dge
Bka’ ‘gyur, Toh. no. 765, Rgyud wa, ff. 56b.2–69a.6. See also Ārya Maṇibhadra-nāma
Dhāraṇī (Tib. ‘Phags pa nor bu bzang po’i gzungs); Sde dge Bka’ ‘gyur, Toh. no. 764, Rgyud
wa, ff. 56a.1 56b.2 and Sde dge Bka’ ‘gyur, Toh. no. 970, Gzungs wam, ff. 86a.4–86b.7.
27. Most likely an abbreviation for the Rdo rje sems dpa’i sgyu ‘phrul dra ba gsang ba
thams cad kyi me long zhes bya ba’i rgyud; NGB, Mtshams brag 441, vol. 22, za, text 5, ff.
480.6–692.6.
28. This is perhaps the Ma mo las thams cad kyi las rgyud lung; NGB, Mtshams brag
713, vol. 39, ti, text 6, ff. 638.5–677.5. Whatever it is, Mi pham cites this so-called Las
thams cad pa’i rgyud copiously in this section.
29. Also included is a brief instruction on the mirror divination of Dpal ldan lha mo
given to Mi pham by his teacher Dbang chen Dgyes rab rdo rje (b. 1832). See Section II.44.
On Tibetan mirror divination more generally, see Nebesky-Wojkowitz, Oracles and Demons
of Tibet (1993), 462–63; John Vincent Bellezza, Spirit-Mediums, Sacred Mountains and Related
Bon Textual Traditions in Upper Tibet: Calling Down the Gods (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 437–38.
30. See the root cycle of the Kṛṣṇayamāri Tantra (Tib. Gshin rje gshed nag po’i rgyud); Sde
dge Bka’ ‘gyur, Toh. no. 467, Rgyud ja, ff. 134b.1–151b.4; Sde dge Bka’ ‘gyur, Toh. no. 469,
Rgyud ja, ff. 164a.1–167b.5; Sde dge Bka’ ‘gyur, Toh. no. 473, Rgyud ja, ff. 175a.1–185b.7.
Commentaries and related texts are found in Sde dge Bstan ‘gyur, Toh. nos. 1918–2089.
31. This would be the De bzhin gshegs pa thams cad kyi dgongs pa’i khro bo ‘dus pa/
bde gshegs spyir dril rta mgrin rngog ma leb rgan gyi rgyud; Gting skyes 303, vol. 24, ya, ff.
110.2–212.4.
32. A possible equivalent term for black magic in Tibetan would be mthu, which
means literally “force, power” and in this sense is similar to the word drag included
among the “four actions.” The term mthu, however, explicitly connotes something
malevolent, an evil action of the sort we might more easily recognize as witchcraft. The
distinction between mthu and mngon spyod—another common word for black magic
(see note 35)—is not altogether clear.
33. Sngags kyi be’u bum B, f. 380.3; C, 209.
34. On the delicate distinction between ritual murder (bsgral ba) and liberation
(sgrol ba), see Cathy Cantwell, “To Meditate upon Consciousness as Vajra: Ritual ‘Killing
and Liberation’ in the Rnying-ma-pa Tradition,” in Tibetan Studies: Proceedings of the 7th
Seminar of the International Association for Tibetan Studies, Graz 1995, ed. Helmut
Krasser, Michael Torsten Much, Ernst Steinkellner, and Helmut Tauscher (Vienna:
Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1997), 107–18; see also
Peter Schwieger, “Schwarze Magie im tibetischen Buddhismus,” Studies in Central and
East Asian Religion 9 (1988): 18–36.
35. The Tibetan term for sorcery, mngon spyod (Skt. abhicāra), is defined in the
Tshig mdzod chen mo as “fierce activities; the action of slaying (‘liberating’) enemies,
demons, and obstructors through the power of mantra”; drag po’i las te sngags mthus dgra
bo dang gdon bgegs rnams bsgral ba’i las; Krang dbyi sun, et al., Bod rgya tshig mdzod chen
mo, 690. These rites are also collectively called mnan sreg ‘phang gsum, referring to the
186 tibetan ritual

three primary methods for achieving the intended goal—pressing (mnan pa), burning
(bsreg pa), and hurling (‘phang ba). These are the same three categories of fierce ritual
listed in the Chinese Imperial Edict of 1726, which was ratified for the sole purpose of
prohibiting the practice of sorcery in Tibet, particularly among followers of the Rnying
ma pa. See Mdo mkhar Zhabs drung Tshe ring dbang rgyal, Mi dbang rtogs brjod [= Dpal
mi’i dbang po’i rtogs brjod ‘jig rten kun tu dga’ ba’i gtam] (Chengdu: Si khron mi rigs dpe
skrun khang, 1981), 482 and the discussion in Luciano Petech, China and Tibet in the
Early XVIIIth Century (Leiden: Brill, 1972), 106–12. Very soon after this pronounce-
ment, in 1802, Thu’u bkwan disparagingly used the phrase mnan sreg ‘phang gsum also
in reference to the sorcery of the Rnying ma pa. He writes: “Nowadays, the Rnying ma
pa merely put on a show of magic, chanting liturgical books, conjuring hosts of deities,
pressing, burning, and hurling [the gtor ma and zor weapons], and so forth, but act [as if
what they] do is crucial”; da lta’i rnying ma ba rnams las byang gyer ba dang/ tshogs ‘khor
gyi yo lang dang/ mnan sreg ‘phang gsum sogs las sbyor gyi gzugs bryan la snying por byed ba
tsam mo; Grub mtha’ shel gyi me long (Lanzhou: Kan su’u mi rigs dpe skrun khang,
1984), 80. For a general overview of destructive rites in Tibet, see Nebesky-Wojkowitz,
Oracles and Demons of Tibet (1993), 481–502; Martin J. Boord, The Cult of the Deity
Vajrakīla, According to the Texts of the Northern Treasures Tradition of Tibet (Byang-gter
phur-ba) (Tring: The Institute of Buddhist Studies, 1993), 197–206. On such rites in
India, see again Türstig, “Indian Sorcery.” For a discussion of these rites in China and
Japan, see Michel Strickman, “Homa in East Asia,” in Agni: The Vedic Ritual of the Fire
Altar, ed. Fritz Staal, 2 vols. (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1983) 2: 418–55.
36. Gnubs chen Sangs rgyas ye shes and ‘Jam dpal bshes gnyen, Zla gsang be’u
bum (Dehra Dun, 1975). The so-called Shugs ldan be’u bum is extant in two versions, the
New Delhi edition (Mongolian Lama Guru Deva, 1984) and the Lhasa edition (1991),
both in two volumes.
37. The ten fields are listed by Klong rdol Ngag dbang blo bzang (1719–94) in his
Gsang sngags rig pa ‘dzin pa’i sde snod las byung ba’i rgyud sde bzhi’i ming gi rnam grangs
as follows (Lhasa: Bod ljongs bod yig dpe rnying dpe skrun khang, 1991), 110: [1] those
who subvert the teachings of the Buddha; [2] those who blaspheme the Three Jewels;
[3] those who rob the goods of the monastic assembly; [4] those who slander and con-
demn the Mahāyāna; [5] those who attack the guru/lama; [6] those who slander their
tantric brothers; [7] those who hinder an evocation; [8] those who have neither love nor
compassion; [9] those who break their vows and pledges; and [10] those who hold wrong
views about karma and its effects”; bsgral ba’i zhing bcu zhes pa ni/ sangs rgyas bstan pa
bshig pa gcig/ dkon mchog dbu ‘phang smad pa gnyis/ dge ‘dun dkor ni ‘phrog pa gsum/ theg
chen smod cing sun ‘byin bzhi/ bla ma’i sku la bsdo ba lnga/ rdo rje spun sum ‘byin pa drug/
sgrub la bar chad byed pa bdun/ brtse ba snying rje gtan med brgyad/ dam tshig sdom pa bral
ba dgu/ las ‘bras log par lta ba bcu.
38. Klong rdol Ngag dbang blo bzang, Gsang sngags rig pa, 109–10: de ltar lta stangs
bzhi po ni/ ‘grub kyang mngon spyod drag las kyi/ zhing bcu tshang ba’i dgra bo yang/ bsgral
na rang nyid sdig pa che/ ‘o na mngon spyod drag las ni/ ji tsam zhig nas byed pa yi/ zhe na
lta stangs bzhi po yis/ de ltar nus kyang de ma thag/ lta stangs mdzad pas [110] sngar mgo
bzhin/ nus na gdug can bsgral ba dang/ de yi rnam shes mtho ris kyi/ rten bzang bskyal nus
nges par ‘ongs/ de lta’i sngags pas dgra bgegs bsgral.
8
Rites of the Deity Tamdrin
(Rta mgrin) in Contemporary
Bön
Transforming Poison and Eliminating Noxious
Spirits with Burning Stones

marc des jardins

My first encounter with the Bönpo deity Tamdrin (Rta mgrin) occurred
in April 2004. Upon my arrival at the Yeshé (Ye shes)1 Monastery in
Nyagrong (Nyag rong, Xinlong xian) following two days of continuous
travel from Chengdu, I suffered from exhaustion. The lama in whose
quarters I was temporarily lodged became worried and decided that
there were hindering spirits who were preventing me from function-
ing normally. Anyi Lama (A nyi bla ma), a senior monk, is one of the
monastery’s ritual experts. He took it upon himself to conduct a ritual
of exorcism for my well-being, as well as for some other monks who
were also suffering from recurring illnesses. The third day after my
arrival, all the preparations for the ritual, including the special torma
cakes and other offerings for the altar, had been completed before
10:00 a.m. The lama then conducted the “General Ritual of Tamdrin”
(Rta mgrin skor),2 and I was invited to join the other monks in his
kitchen. It was close to noon. Little did I expect that the main part of
the ritual was going to take place in the kitchen. I noticed that close
to the hearth an acolyte was busy pumping air to fan an already well-
established fire. On the stove was a cauldron with liquids. On the first
fire was a receptacle containing stones that had been heated to bright
red. We all sat on the floor or on the side bench and let Anyi Lama
188 tibetan ritual

conduct the ritual. While he was intoning mantras, the acolyte manning the
fire took one red-hot stone with tongs and put it directly on the open hand
of Anyi Lama. There was a puff of smoke and flame which suddenly hissed
upward. The lama, without stopping or flinching, continued to recite the man-
tras while circling his hand over all the participants, including me. He then
threw the stone, still red, into the cauldron on the stove. This made the liquid
boil violently and overflow with loud noises. Anyi Lama repeated this five more
times with similar stones. After throwing the last one in, he then took a twig
of juniper which he dipped into the cauldron and sprinkled each of us, one by
one. This concluded the rite. At my request, Anyi Lama showed me his hand,
which did not appear to have suffered any burns from the stones. I witnessed
this dramatic ritual more than three times over the course of several years,
while conducting research at Yeshé Monastery. It seems that it has become the
specialty of about three of its monks, all disciples of Anyi Lama. The ritual can
also be performed with more props, such as the drawing of a colored powder
circle with two fires in its midst, the use of a ritual cauldron, repeated offerings
of torma, use of colored threads, and many more ingredients and paraphernalia
(Figure 8.1).
The tutelary deity invoked in this ritual was none other than Tamdrin or
Hayagrı̄va, a member of the Bön as well as the Buddhist pantheon. Anyi Lama

figure 8.1. The officiating lama takes hold of one of the burning stone. Yeshé
Monastery. Photo: M. des Jardins (April, 2004).
 rites of the deity tamdrin in contemporary bön 189

possesses a painting (thang ka) made by a former master of the monastery

which depicts Tamdrin in the center, red in color, with his outstretched right
hand holding a sword in the tarjanı̄ mudrā and the left hand in the same pos-
ture holding a skull cup. This sword is the identifying mark which differenti-
ates it from the Buddhist iconography, which, by contrast, shows him holding
a vajra. Below him on his left is Khyung (Garud·a), stretching a snake between
his two hands and his beak. Chagna Dorjé (Phyag na do rje, Vajrapāni), on his
right and below, is holding a vajra in his right hand with the left hand at his
heart in the tarjanı̄ mudrā. Above Tamdrin are the Three Enlightened Ones of
the past, present, and future. The assembly hall of Yeshé monastery also pos-
sesses a life-sized statue of red Tamdrin in a recessed alcove (Figure 8.2).
This chapter has a number of goals: (1) to provide some historical back-
ground for the chief deity of the ritual, Tamdrin, especially in the Bön tradition;
(2) to provide a detailed description of the ritual cycle within which the Burning
Stones ritual is found; (3) to explain the social context in which this rite is per-
formed; (4) to reflect on what makes this rite so popular; and (5) to argue for the
fact that rites like this one suggest the need for a more nuanced understanding
of the relationship of Bön and Buddhism in Tibet.

Context

Hayagrı̄va is the well-known Indian horse-head deity commonly conceived as

an incarnation or avatāra of Vis·n · u by a majority of Hindus. Kamala Nayar has
clearly demonstrated in her study of Hayagrı̄va in India3 that there is no single
story of this important deity. Its hauts faits are attested to in a multiplicity of
voices, religions, cultures, and worldviews. Hayagrı̄va’s stories are found in the
epics, such as the Mahābhārata (200–400 CE), and the Purān · as, such as the
Harivamśa, Skanda Purān · a, Vis··n u Purān· a, the Vis
··nudharmottara Purān
· a, and
the Kālikā Purān · a. Among the Āgama, it is found in the Hayaśı̄rs·a Sam · hitā,
Īśvara Sam · hitā, Pādma Sam· hitā, Sanatkumāra Sam· hitā, Sātvata Sam· hitā, Śes·a
Sam · hitā, Śrı̄paus·kara Sam · hitā, Sāradātilaka Tantra, the Yoginı̄ Tantra (ca. 16th
century), and the Meru Tantra. It also appears in regional sectarian writings
such as the Periya Tirumol·i and the Tiruvāymol·i of the Āl·vārs as well as in the
Śata Dūs·an · ı̄ of the Śrı̄ Vais·n· ava Ācārya, Vedānta Deśika (1269–1370). Many
4

indications point to the present-day cult of Hayagrı̄va as strongest in Assam,

in northeastern India, where there are many entire temples dedicated to this
deity. Of the various and sundry narratives of Hayagrı̄va, the ones that have
gradually dominated, unified, and strengthened the core tradition centered on
the narratives of him as an avatāra of Vis·n · u. Scholars have accounted for the
190 tibetan ritual

figure 8.2. The statue of Tamdrin at Yeshé Monastery. Photo: M. des

Jardins (April, 2004).

horse-head deity theme running throughout a long period of time in sacred

Indian texts.
In Tibet, Hayagrı̄va is at the center of many “treasure” (gter ma) teachings
and cycles, belonging for the most part to the Nyingma school. Sera monastery
has, however, a peculiar tradition of the cult of the deity which is unique to this
institution. This has been explored by Cabezón.5
 rites of the deity tamdrin in contemporary bön 191

Tamdrin in Bön

We may assert with much caution that the first authoritative scriptural refer-
ence to Tamdrin in Bön can be found in the long version of Tönpa Shenrab’s
(Ston pa gshen rab) hagiography, the fourteenth century Precious Compendium:
The Blazing Sūtra Immaculate and Glorious (Dri med gzi brjid ).6 The particular
section on Tamdrin has been reprinted separately in the Bön Tengyur (Brten
‘gyur) under the title The Lore of King Tamdrin from the Sūtra on the Teachings
of Bön [Extracted] from the Concise [Teachings] in Terms of the Five Categories of
Asuras Versus the Great Magic of the Gods from the Precious Compendium, the
Immaculate and Glorious.7 This text begins by stating how the Teacher Shenrab,
out of compassion for all sentient beings, taught on the top of the Excellent
Mountain (ri rab, i.e., Mount Kailash) a method to subdue violent hindrances
or hindering spirits (drags gegs) who could not be conquered by ordinary means.
It is said that subduing these spirits with deities from the sphere of the Peaceful
Ones (zhi ba) was not possible. Therefore, in order to accomplish their subjuga-
tion, the Teacher recited the mantra of Tamdrin (bso om · vajra rag (sha? ) khro da
rab rab haya ghrı̄ ba hum phat). Shenrab then produces an emanation body (sku
sprul) in front of himself as Hayagrı̄va, who appears with a flaming red body,
one face, two hands, standing in the striding posture and holding a flaming red
sword with gold ornaments. In the midst of his mane is a green horse head.
He stands in mid-air, blazing.8 As is common in other Tibetan literature of this
genre, he then emanates rays of light that hook the beings to be called forth,
drawing their principle of consciousness (bla) in front of him. He then intones
a long mantra spanning over four folios.9 This invokes the devas, asuras, the
Great Ones of the cemeteries (dur khrod chen po), and the Fierce Fathers and
the Mothers (drags gegs pho mo). A vast host of the beings are then brought into
his presence through emanations of martial spirits. The list is very extensive
and includes not only many grouped categories of eight gods and demons (lha
‘dre), but also a variety of beings such as fire deities (me lha), neither-male-nor-
female deities (ma ning), life-force deities of the Sinpo (Srin po) class, etc. This
list is a mixture of deities of Indian origin, recognizable from their Sanskritized
names, some corresponding to known categories, and others of a more popular
nature, such as wind deities (rlung lha), city-gods (grong khyer), gods of various
realms, various demonic lords (dmu rje, bdud rje), the Wealth God (nor lha) and
many others difficult to identify.
There are no epic narratives in this short text. The account is closer to a
roster of personalities witnessed at a royal court. In fact, the point might just be
192 tibetan ritual

to affirm the reigning authority of Tamdrin over mundane and trouble-making

deities. This work is concise, straightforward, and is not unique in its genre.
There are a number of Buddhist texts dating from around the ninth century
in Tibet, and earlier in China, that do not contain narratives. Scriptures, such
as the Mahāmāyūrı̄ Sūtra,10 are lists of a wide array of divinities that are more
often than not regrouped under various categories and classes. In China, a spe-
cific scriptural genre was in vogue from as early as the sixth to the ninth cen-
tury which was referred to under the generic name of Foming Jing (Scriptures
of the Names of the Buddhas).11 These texts were primarily used for long rituals
which consisted of reciting the name of each Enlightened One, worshipping it
with incense, and prostrating while circumambulating the inner precincts of
the temple. These grand rituals often lasted for several days and were physi-
cally so demanding that during its course followers would fall down, often in
a trance. The rituals were very popular, and monastic institutions and masters
would create their own version of Foming Jing to attract followers and gener-
ate financial and other forms of support. Thus, the various Chinese Buddhist
Canons have many of these scriptures, which may contain from 100 to 30,000
names of deities. Taoism has also followed this trend with important scriptures
such as the Scripture of Universal Salvation,12 thus showing a ritual trend com-
mon not only to Tibet, but also to East Asia more generally.13

A Short History of Tamdrin in Bön

More research needs to be conducted in order to ascertain the age of the Tam-
drin practices in Bön. The history of Yeshé Monastery’s lineage suggests that
it is a relatively recent practice, as gleaned from the records of the master
Tsultrim Chog-gyal (Tshul khrims mchog rgyal, d. ca. 1978), who left terse but
most informative accounts of the lineages of most of the empowerments and
practices he received during his lifetime. Tsultrim Chog-gyal was the master
and uncle of the late Ayung Lama (A g.yung bla ma, alias G.yung drung bstan
pa’i rgyal mtshan, 1926–97). The latter organized the first printing of the Bön
Canon (Bka’ ‘gyur) during the late 1980s, and with the present editor of the
Tengyur, Sogden Tenpé Nyima (Sog ldan bstan pa’i nyi ma), collected many of
the texts now available in this collection.
Tsultrim Chog-gyal’s lineage explanations, which are today only available
in an original manuscript, do not quite fill two folios, and are rather ellipti-
cal. He begins by stating that the lineage of the empowerment (dbang) and
transmission (lung) of Tamdrin, Chagna and Khyung began when, in the dis-
tant past, the three root-deities appeared in a pure place where omniscient and
 rites of the deity tamdrin in contemporary bön 193

enlightened ones abide. The emanation (sprul) of the Fierce King Tamdrin sub-
dued wild demons (bdud srin) with oaths. The manifestation of Speech, pure
son of the gods, could split deceivers into hundreds of pieces. The three mani-
festations of the Three Bodies were then realized by Sangwa Düpa (Gsang ba
‘dus pa).14 He then transmitted these to the nine great sorcerers (mthu chen mi
dgu),15 who then transmitted them to Drenpa Namkha (Dran pa nam mkha’),
who in turn transmitted these to his two sons Tsewang Rigdzin (Tshe dbang
rig ‘dzin) and Pema Jungné (Pad ma ‘byung nas).16 These teachings were
then entrusted to a wisdom d·ākinı̄. In the fifth month, during a Fire Dragon
year, the protectors of these teachings entrusted them to Yungdrung Tenpé
Gyaltsen (G.yung drung bstan pa’i rgyal mtshan, b. 1516) of the Kharag (Kha
rag) Monastery in Pelyul (Dpal yul).17 He transmitted these to his grandson
Lama Yungdrung (Bla ma g.yung drung). From the latter, they passed succes-
sively to the Trülku Yungdrung Tenpa Yangpa (Sprul sku g.yung drung bstan
pa dbyangs pa), to Yungdrung Döndrub (G.yung drung don ‘grub), to Shengyal
Tendzin (Gshen rgyal bstan ‘dzin), to lama Yungdrung Bönten (G.yung drung
bon bstan), and finally to Tsultrim Chog-gyal. From the first master of Kharag
Monastery to our writer, there are seven generations. From Tsultrim Chog-
gyal, the lineage passed to Ayung Lama, and from him to Anyi Lama, and other
contemporary practitioners of the Tamdrin ritual cycle.
Tsultrim Chog-gyal18 was a famous master of the Yeshé Monastery. In his
early days, he traveled far and wide in Kham (Khams) to study with renowned
Bönpo masters. One of his root-masters was the famous Shardzé Trashi Gyaltsen
(Shar rdzas bkra shis rgyal mtshan, 1858–1934).19 He also received lineages from
another contemporary master, Sang-ngag Lingpa (Gsang sngags gling pa, b.
1864).20 He kept meticulous records of his transmissions, which are invaluable
sources for the study of contemporary Bönpo religious history. His records, as
well as information found within the ritual texts themselves, allow us to ascertain
that this ritual cycle belongs to the New Treasure (Gter gsar) or New Bön (Bon
gsar) movement. Although this classification is used by some more conservative
Bönpo masters, the Kham traditions of Bön, in concert with its Nyingma coun-
terparts, accept new terma discoveries as well as the more traditional teachings
from the Old Bön terma. This is in keeping with local religious trends.

The Fierce Ones of the Three Bodies

The corpus of texts used by Anyi Lama to propitiate Tamdrin, and which con-
tains, among other texts, the ritual of the Burning Stones, is entitled: The Armor
of Everlastingness, by which the Fierce Kings of the Three Bodies Save and Destroy
194 tibetan ritual

Hypocrisy and Defilements (Sku gsum khro rgyal gyis ngo g.yo dri ma ‘jig skyobs
g.yung drung go cha). It consists of a collection of eighteen texts with smaller
prayers, praises, lineage accounts, and miscellaneous directives and recitations
included in relevant sections. This small compendium was obviously created
for ritual recitation. The more complete version contains the empowerment
rites as well as other miscellaneous rituals such as the rite of Slaying (bsad pa)
and the Burning Stone rites.
Although monks of Yeshé Monastery see this practice as related to Tam-
drin, the rite involves more than just this one deity. The deities of the Three
Bodies alluded to in the headings of the various texts and throughout the ritual
are the three different deities already mentioned, namely Tamdrin, Chagna
Dorjé (also known as Yungdrung Namjom, G.yung drung rnam ‘joms), and
Khyung—in other words Hayagrı̄va, Vajrapāni, and Garud·a. These are the
body, speech, and mind of enlightened activities and are also manifestations
or emanations of the Three Masters of the ninth century, Drenpa Namkha and
his two sons.
List of Texts and Sections in the Fierce Kings of the Three Bodies Corpus

1. dug phyung me long g.ya’ sel (clearing away of defilements) dbu phyogs
This text is a petition to the group of yidams requesting that they remove
poisons and other noxious influences from the area in which the rite
will take place.
2. sku gsum khro rgyal gcig dril las cha lag las byang (auxiliary rites) don ‘dus
This section starts with a lengthy introduction to the many offering
practices and others which constitute the bulk of the rite. The main
parts of the ritual are recited while offering a large number of ritual
cakes (gtor ma) to nāgas (klu) and other spirits, bodhisattvas and enlight-
ened beings, consecration of the vase where the deities will be invited to
stay during the rite, verses for taking refuge, purification, generating
bodhicitta, requests of blessings, and other rites which surround the
propitiation rites addressed to the three main deities.
3. sku gsum khro rgyal bskang ba (mending ritual) rin chen gter spyungs
4. shen rab sku sprul rta mgrin dpa’ bo gcig pa sde brgyad rgyal bsen shi ‘dre
dregs pa zil gnon (shi ‘dre dgra gegs pa’i gnya’ gnon?)
This is the actual propitiation manual of Tamdrin the Solitary Hero. It
contains the main visualization of the deity with its various mantras and
prayers.
5. gshen rab gsung sprul bcom ldan phyag na rdo rje (Vajrapāni) gza’ gdon
‘byung po ma rung ‘dul ba’i gnyen po
 rites of the deity tamdrin in contemporary bön 195

This is the propitiation manual of Vajrapāni proper, similar in many

points to no. 4.
6. gshen rab thugs sprul ye shes khyung nag (Black Wisdom Garud·a) klu
gnyan nad mdon gdug pa ‘dul mdzad
This is the propitiation manual of Garud·a proper.
7. sku gsum khro rgyal bsrungs ba’i las byang (manual of protection) dbus
phyogs
This booklet contains the consecration liturgies of various offerings to
be made to protector deities.
8. sku gsum khro rgyal las bzlog pa (repelling) byad ma ‘bum zlogs dbu
phyogs
This is the rite which repels the attacks from various ill-intentioned
spirits such as the nāgas, cemetery sprites (dur sri), demons (bdud)
from different quarters, Tsen (btsan), Mamo (ma mo), Za (Gza’), Shinjé
(gshin rje, Skt. yamas), Sinpo (srin po), Gyalpo (rgyal po, lit. kings), Mara
(ma ra), etc.
9. ma cig bka’ gsang lha mo’i bskul pa (exhortation)
This text consists of praises to the Sole Mother (ma cig), Sipa Gyalmo
(Sri pa rgyal mo), the ruler of this world according to Bön.
10. gshin rje’i gco ‘khor (the cycle on breaking Yama) bskul pa nyung ‘dus dbu
phyogs
The prayers in this section placate the various spirits associated with
death, such as the sprites of the cemeteries and others. It consists of
entreaties, offerings, and exalting the power and virtues of the enlight-
ened beings associated with Bön.
11. bstan bsrung rdo rje legs pa srod bsgrub dam nyams srog gi thog mda’ (thun-
derbolt arrow) dbu phyogs.
This text serves to incite to action a class of protectors subjugated in
the past and bound by oaths, the damchen (dam can), as well as to
remind them of their duty. The protectors include Dorjé Legpa (Dor rje
legs pa), who was subjugated by Padmasambhava and became the pro-
tector of Nyingmapas in general.
12. dam can rgya mtsho mkha’ la rang bzhin gyis bsad gsol (request to slay)
dbu phyogs
The bsad pa (slaying) rite is accomplished toward the end of a retreat,
or in cases where offending spirits have to be “liberated” by severing
their life-force and transferring their principle of consciousness to a
better realm. At Yeshé Monastery, this rite is not one that is frequently
196 tibetan ritual

performed. When it has to be done, a senior lama is usually requested

to perform it. It is believed that the practice of this rite shortens one’s
life. This one in particular involves the participation of the damchen
protectors, mentioned earlier. It is not yet clear to me whether this rite
is also used to subjugate and bind by oath would-be damchen spirits.
(See also the discussion of slaying rites in chapter 3 by Mayer and
Cantwell in this volume.)
13. grub mtha’i rgyal po sangs gyas gling pa’i lugs kyi nyer mkho (requisites)
zur ‘degs (lifting of a part?) sgron me dbus phyogs
The shortened title of this booklet should be nyerkho (nyer mkho) or
“requisites,” according the ritual tradition of Sangyé Lingpa (Sangs
rgyas gling pa, b. 1705), the founder of the Bönsar tradition, regarded
as the third incarnation of Loden Nyingpo (Blo ldan snyin po, b. 1360),
and master of Kündrö Dragpa (Kun grol drag pa). Instead, it uses the
enigmatic term of zurdeg (zur ‘degs), whose exact meaning eludes me.
The text in fact includes many different mantras that ought to be
recited at various moments of the performance of selected rites; it also
indicates the drumbeat and other ritual miscellanea.
14. sku gsum khro rgyal las bsad pa dam nyams (slaying meditation) srog
gshed
This is the actual rite of slaying using the “power” of the three deities
of this cycle alluded to earlier.
15. sde brgyad rgyal bsen kun phung sbyin bsreg (homa or burnt offering)
dzwa dmar ba’i ‘khyil pa
The burnt offering rite concludes all retreats, just as it does the full
performance of the Tamdrin ritual involving the burning stone
sequence described in this chapter.
16. rma bya dug ‘joms (conquering poison, i.e., the white stone rite) dzwa
dbal chu bcas ba
This is the text of the rite of the burning stone described earlier in this
chapter.
17. dbal khyung nag po’i rgyud klu gnyan ‘dul ba’i (subduing of nāgas and
nyen) gdon khrol
As the title suggests, this text seeks to use the powers of the Black
Garud·a to subjugate offending nāgas and nyen spirits. (See chapter 2
by Karmay in this volume.)
18. rta mgrin dpa’ bo gcig pa’i dbang chog (empowerment) bde ba’i yan lag
This is the ritual of empowerment to the practices and meditations of
this cycle of rites.
 rites of the deity tamdrin in contemporary bön 197

Five texts are essential during any general practice of the Tamdrin corpus.
These are the auxiliary rites manual, the individual rites of the three deities,
and that of the protectors. In keeping with the New Treasure tradition, these
are fairly concise practices.

The Auxiliary Rites Manual

Text no. 2 in the aforementioned list (and the set of prayers from other
sources that are to be added at key moments), the auxiliary rites manual (cha
lag las byang), contains the basic elements that form the core of the ritual. It
is a framework of miscellaneous rites that support whichever of the three
central “root texts” is recited in a given context. The rites of this manual are
used to introduce, as well as to conclude the general ritual. They are manda-
tory to the performance of more advanced practices, such as those involv-
ing the burning stones, the ritual slaying of hindering spirits, as well as fire
offerings and others. The colophon of the auxiliary rites manual tells us that
these “few words of great meaning, which are like wish-fulfilling gem, were
obtained the 15th of the fifth month of a fire dragon year” (f. 128). This would
correspond to the year spanning 1556 and 1557. It states that it is the secret
heart of the exalted ones of both Bön and Chö (Chos, i.e., Buddhism), and
makes references to the Teacher Shenrab and to the Buddha Śākyamuni. It is
therefore a practice that is perceived as deliberately bridging the two creeds.
This, the text continues, is to be kept secret from the kind of vow-violators
who have wrong views.
The different sections of texts to be recited during the performance are quite
standard—common to both Tibetan Buddhist and Yungdrung Bön (G.yung
drung bon). One finds such rites as the offering of the white torma (dkar gtor) to
mundane deities, to the guardians of the quarters, and to the heads of the eight
classes of gods and demons (lha srin) (f. 18), offerings of a host of different
tormas suited to the recipient beings, and ransom tormas (glud gtor) for ransom
rites used to secure and protect the site of the performance from opposing
spirits (f. 19). One also finds inner-offerings consecrations (f. 19), seven-limbed
prayers and meditations (ff. 19–20), going for refuge, generating bodhicitta,
confession of sins, prayer to the masters of the lineage, delimiting the sacred
space (mtshams bcad) (f. 22), generation of the three central deities, and mantra
recitations to control nāgas, raks·asas, and other spirits, as well as rites for puri-
fication, etc. (ff. 26–29). It also contains concluding prayers and offerings to be
recited after the main meditation or the practice of other rituals.
198 tibetan ritual

Propitiation

The next three texts, which correspond to texts nos. 4, 5, and 6 in the list men-
tioned earlier, are the root texts of each of the three deities of this corpus. These
are, of course, Tamdrin as the manifestation of the enlightened body of Tönpa
Shenrab, Chagna Dorjé as his enlightened speech manifestation, and Khyung
as his mind manifestation. In the course of the acquisition of the lineage, the
practitioner has to concentrate on one deity for a given period of time. This
involves the repetition of mantras, visualizations, and other related meditation
techniques. When the ritual is performed for patrons, all three texts are recited
one after the other in each section. For example, when the officiant recites the
“Requests to the Lamas of the Lineage,” Lagyü Söldeb (brgyud gsol ‘debs), of the
Tamdrin text, at the conclusion of this section, he switches to the Söldeb of
Chagna, and then to the Khyung Söldeb section. Once the recitations of the
three different parts are completed, he passes on to the next sections of the rite
in the Tamdrin manual and follows a similar procedure with the other texts.
The whole recitation thus includes the propitiation of the three deities.
The three texts that constitute the central practices (dngos gzhi) in question
are relatively short, no more than thirteen folios for Tamdrin, eleven folios
for Chagna, and ten folios for Khyung. They are overall fairly homogeneous
and follow similar, if not identical, developments in the unfolding of the dif-
ferent sections during the performance. That is, they follow the similar pat-
terns of torma offerings, followed by the setting up of the sacred perimeter,
then the self-generation (bdag bskyed) or front-generation (mdun sbkyed), and so
on. There then follows the inevitable mantra recitations for accomplishment,
followed by praises, hymns, and auspicious verses.

Protectors

The last required section or rite is the daily propitiation of the protective deities.
These are of a general nature, but do contain verses addressed to the main general
protectors of Bön such as Sipé Gyalmo (Srid pa’i rgyal mo). A common feature of
all these are the constant offerings of torma. Here, lamas add offerings, praises,
and requests to their own individual protectors and to those of their respective
lineage or monastery. The practitioners again reestablish the sacred perimeter,
then pray to the knowledge-holders (rig ‘dzin), such as Tönpa Shenrab, consecrate
offerings, invoke the main deity, Hayagrı̄va, erect the palace of the gods, then
invite them to be present, make offerings, and finally request their activities.
 rites of the deity tamdrin in contemporary bön 199

The Rite of the Burning Stones

The ritual which brought us to this research was a form of exorcism using burn-
ing quartz stones carried in an open unprotected palm and then thrown into a
cauldron of water mixed with nine poisons. The historical origin of this tradi-
tion is still to be determined. The text of the practice is The Peacock Conqueror of
Poison, Fiercely Stepping on the Waters (Rma bya dug ‘joms dzwa dbal chu bcas). It
is uncertain whether or not Yungdrung Tenpé Gyaltsen was the author. There
are no indications of its authorship or when it was written. The introduction to
the ritual emphasizes that during the age of degeneration, to benefit sentient
beings, following the practices of the faithful yogis, the yogi Pema Jungné went
to the southwest to tame the sin (srin) demons of the cemeteries. At that time he
was practicing the three deities, Tamdrin, Chagna, and Khyung. Then, the lord
of the sin demons, Hadha(?)-one-eyed, was born. Transforming himself, he
manifested nine snouts which were primarily ignorance and sloth. He mani-
fested also as a black boar with nine heads, the cause being a raks·asa of pride
with nine heads, nine hands, nine feet, on his back. From his nine mouths and
nine noses he spread allotments of covetousness and desires. His nine eyes
spread allotments of epilepsy and poison. His nine heads spread allotments of
poisonous warfare. He was subdued by Pema Jungné using the three deities:
Tamdrin, Chagna, and Khyung.
The ritual describes the method to prepare oneself and the materials
needed for the rite, and then proceeds through its various steps. The succes-
sive sections of this ritual follow a template common to other similar rites and
begins with the delimitation of the sacred space; then going for refuge; prayers
for realization; invitation and the bringing down of the deities; offerings; self-
generation as the three deities; recitation of the mantras; the handling of the
nine stones with mantras and visualization; the sprinkling of the patients with
the transmuted, formerly poisonous water for the sake of purifying them; offer-
ing of praises; praising the body of Chagna; the offering torma; and request
for activities.
The stones are heated to the point of becoming incandescent, and then
one by one are put on the open, unprotected hand of the officiating lama. The
latter then circles the patients with his palm while reciting a mantra. He then
proceeds to throw the stones, as described earlier, into the cauldron filled
with water in which nine poisonous substances have been placed. The poi-
sons are believed to be transformed into a beneficent and curative substance
by the stones. Using juniper twigs, the lama then sprinkles the patients with
the water.
200 tibetan ritual

A later part of the rite consists of tying threads of five colors to poplar
twigs and intertwining the other ends to the individual fingers of the patients.
The threads are then cut while the lama intones prayers and entreaties. This is
believed to cut off noxious influences from the five elements after transferring
the evil spirits afflicting the patients to the poplar twigs. The twigs are then
taken away and thrown or burnt without ceremony.
The following morning the final concluding prayers are performed after the
rite is completed with a last propitiation of the three deities, who are then asked
to leave. A proper full recitation of this ritual of Tamdrin lasts two days and
a morning. Practitioners sometime hold impromptu sessions in their home,
which may last only half a day. The elaborate powder fire altar is then replaced
with the kitchen stove and “the five colored ribbons” rite altogether dispensed
with. Such hurried application of the rite is conducted when it is performed for
friends and fellow monks without remunerations, and in informal settings.

Reflections on the Practice

Reasons for the Performance

According to Anyi Lama and one of his most sought-after disciples, Tagbön
(Stag bon, alias G.yung drung bstan ‘dzin), there are various reasons why
patrons request such rituals, most of them related to health issues. Problems
mentioned by patrons range from general weakness, skin infections, symp-
toms resembling arthritis and rheumatism, to specific, previously diagnosed ill-
nesses of all kinds. A less-frequent demand is to dispel a repeated series of bad
luck events, repeated unfortunate incidents, and unhealthy living conditions.
Tagbön has mentioned to me that in cases of bad luck, he usually first conducts
a divination session in order to ascertain the nature of the offending spirits.
In cases of malignant sprites, but not lu/nāga, he will use the Purba ritual.21
Tamdrin is judged very efficacious for troubles caused by the lu water-spirits.

Patronage
Patrons who requested the performance of this ritual, more often than not at
home, belong in the majority of cases to the Bönpo community. Each monastery
receives the support of a certain number of households, which supply its sons to
the institution, but which in return request ritual services for life. These requests
are not, however, free. The amount of remuneration any given monk will receive
is the result of the monk’s seniority, expertise in the practice of the rite, as well as
his station in the greater monastic hierarchy. For example, a reincarnate master
 rites of the deity tamdrin in contemporary bön 201

(sprul sku) will definitely earn more than a nonreincarnate monk. Specialists like
Tagbön will earn more than others who have not completed the proper retreat,
but not as much as an abbot (mkhan po), a lama with higher administrative rank
within the monastery’s hierarchy, or a ritual master like Anyi Lama.
Patrons from other Bönpo communities apparently request the perfor-
mance of the Tamdrin ritual with some regularity. Buddhist families also
request it. The relationships between the Bönpos and lay Buddhists seemed in
many respect to be one of perceived necessity. Buddhist families usually request
rituals from monks of their own Buddhist communities. When these patrons
are not satisfied with the outcome, or if they receive a divination that spirits are
still plaguing them, Bönpo monks are asked to perform the rite. Although Bön-
pos do not object to this, it is relatively rare to have Bönpo monks come back to
the same Buddhist household that has had other rites performed on its behalf,
unless there has been a call specifically for Bönpos. Thus, in contemporary
Tibet, Bönpos still fulfill some role within the larger Tibetan society.

On the Popularity of the Burning Stone Ritual

This ritual of Tamdrin may be unique among the arsenal of ritual weapons
of contemporary Bönpos. However, there are oral traditions within this com-
munity which allude to similar dramatic rites involving the deity Belsé (Dbal
gsas) and the manipulation of red-hot iron rods. I encountered anecdotes to
this effect among the monks of Yeshé Monastery, and it may allude to other
local rites similar to the Tamdrin one which are high in their dramatic con-
tent. Aside from the area around the Kharag Monastery in the Derge (Sde dge)
region, perhaps, our ritual is not currently performed outside of Nyagrong. If
it is, as it was a few years ago in the Amdo Sharkhog (A mdo shar khog) area,
it was due to the presence of a Yeshé monk (namely Tagbön) who was on pil-
grimage there.
The dramatic aspects of this practice—that is, the feat of a Bönpo monk
handling red-hot stones with bare hands—definitely plays an important role in
the perceived value and power of such a ritual. Even among the Bönpo monks
who have supported its performance many times and have completed the req-
uisite retreat, very few have the nerve to try handling the red-hot stones. This is
undoubtedly why the main practitioners of this rite are seen as being entitled to
some measure of charisma and ritual authority. I would argue that it is precisely
this dramatic element that gives this rite its perceived value. This value is attrib-
uted to the ritual by its patrons, who recognize this sort of rite as being powerful
and efficient. Its high demand in Nyagrong makes it lucrative for a monk who
is seeking support for his livelihood. Whether it always fulfills the expectation
202 tibetan ritual

of its clients is not the point here. There are many explanations that monks and
patrons offer to explain the rite’s failure to secure health or healing. On the one
hand, then, the popularity of this rite has a great deal to do with its dramatic ele-
ments. One the other, this rite thrives in an environment which has either come
to take the ritual for granted or else where the rite has attained the status of a
fashion. The law of supply and demand might just be the very reason why some
rites thrive and eventually cross the boundaries of creed and religion. This could
help us to understand cross-sectarian ritual cycles such as Purba, Hayagrı̄va,
and Severance or Chö (Gcod). This observation, however, takes us beyond the
topic of this chapter and has to be addressed in subsequent publications.

Connection of this Practice to Buddhism

I should add that the presence of Buddhist elements in this rite as well as
in other similar ritual traditions belonging to the Bön New Treasures move-
ment might partially be explained by appeal to the just-mentioned phenom-
enon of a ritual’s popularity. In addition, however, I feel that Buddhism, having
permeated all aspects of Tibetan society and culture for such a long period
of time, has transformed Tibetan culture to the point of being almost totally
blended within it. Tibetans recognize as theirs Buddhist elements, symbols,
deities, and practices. Contemporary Bön, on the other hand, is nativistic in
principle. It identifies itself with the original indigenous religious culture, and
portrays itself as the rightful heir to these traditions from antiquity. Given that
Buddhism has been assimilated for well over a millennium in Tibet, it is not
surprising to see a competing religion (Bön) restating aspects of it. In fact, a
historical study of local traditions of Bön may help gage the level of assimilation
of Buddhism throughout time in different areas of Tibet. Understanding Bön
as borrowing or plagiarizing from Buddhism may in fact demonstrate a poor
understanding of Tibetan culture. Buddhologists may well recognize phenom-
ena pertaining to their specialty in all aspects of Tibetan society. This alone,
however, does not make Tibetan society a Buddhist society tout court. Indig-
enous, non-Buddhist elements and cultural artifacts continue to be expressed.
Although these expressions inevitably contain Buddhist themes, and refer-
ences to Buddhist values, to see Tibet as a “Buddhist society” in any simple
way may makes one blind to the layers and complexity present within it. This
seems to me to be especially true when one examines popular cults and Bön.
Similarly, to recognize Buddhist elements within Bönsar does not makes Bön
any less Bönpo, nor does it make it either more Buddhist or a heterodox branch
of Buddhism. Buddhist polemicists will readily push for the two latter conclu-
sions, but their assertions have not changed Bönpos’ beliefs or understanding
 rites of the deity tamdrin in contemporary bön 203

of their religion, nor do the view of “experts outsiders” when they argue for
this same agenda. Bönpos decide, in any case, what their practices and religion
are. Our task as scholars should not be to support value-laden agendas—for
example, that Bön is crypto-Buddhist—but to understand Bönpo religion in all
its complexity, including its social functions, history, and other aspects. In this
regard, a simple-minded reduction of Bön to Buddhism is counterproductive.
This being said, there are unmistakable symbols that exhibit Buddhist as
well as Indian and Chinese influences in Bönpo rites. This particular cycle
of ritual focuses on Hayagrı̄va (an undeniably Indian deity), Vajrapāni (defi-
nitely Buddhist), and Garud·a (another pan-Indian and Southeast Asian popu-
lar deity). The different ritual stages of the complete rite follows a pattern that
can be found in other contemporary Buddhist rituals of the same genre, with
the exception of the burning stone element. The mantras of the three deities in
this corpus are variants of those found in Buddhist sādhanas.

Conclusions

Tamdrin in Bön is present since at least the fifteenth century when the Ziji
(Gzi brjid) was written. This corresponds to the height of Nyingmapa activi-
ties relating to the Hayagrı̄va, and it can reasonably be argued that the Bönpo
phenomenon of Tamdrin is somehow related to the Nyingma practice, at least
ritually. Bönpos considered Tamdrin to belong to their pantheon of enlight-
ened beings, and to be an emanation of Tönpa Shenrab. In the ritual tradi-
tions of Yeshé Monastery in Nyagrong, the practice of Tamdrin comes from
revelations imparted to a sixteenth-century lama from Kharag Monastery in
Pelyul. Present masters of this lineage at Yeshé represent a seventh genera-
tion of practitioners. Their trademark is the practice of the burning stones that
cure illnesses and transmute poisons. This rite involves the handling of red-
hot quartz stones with bare hands and is a dramatic method of healing and
exorcism. The practitioner of this ritual receives regular requests from Bönpo,
local and translocal, and from Buddhist patrons, who request that the rite be
performed in their houses for the benefit of afflicted members of the family.
This unique rite guarantees a steady income for its officiating monks and mas-
ters, both from the local area and from the outside. It fulfills the important role
of alternative spiritual care for suffering patients and their relatives. This par-
ticular rite also exhibits a degree of assimilation of Buddhist elements which
may help in measuring the assimilation of Buddhism within a specific area of
Tibetan culture and society.
204 tibetan ritual

notes
1. On this monastery, see Samten G. Karmay and Yasuhiko Nagano, eds. A
Survey of Bonpo Monasteries and Temples in Tibet and the Himalaya, Bon Studies 7 (Osaka:
National Museum of Ethnology, 2003), 420–25. Also Seng ge sprul sku rig ‘dzin nyi
ma, Nyag rong ye shes dgon pa’i lo rgyus (Chengdu: Privately Published, 2004).
2. This is my provisional title of a ritual compendium entitled Sku gsum khro rgyal
gyis ngo g.yo dri ma ‘jig skyobs g.yung drung go cha in 216 folios which is used at Ye shes
monastery. The monks use the generic appellation of Rta mgrin skor. This is discussed
later.
3. Kamala Nayar, Hayagrı̄va in South India: Complexity and Selectivity of a Pan-
Indian Hindu Deity (Leiden: Brill, 2004).
4. Nayar, Hayagriva in South India, 27–28.
5. “The Cult of Peaceful and Wrathful Avalokiteśvara at Sera Monastery,” in
Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara (Guanyin) and Modern Society: Proceedings of the Fifth Chung
Hwa International Conference on Buddhism, ed. William McGee and Yi-hsun Huang
(Taipei: Dharma Drum Publishing, 2007), 35–64.
6. ‘Dus pa rin po che dri ma med pa gzi brjid rab tu ‘bar ba’i mdo, Bon po bka’ ‘gyur
(Chengdu: Ha sa yon and Bon slob Nam mkha’ bstan ‘dzin, 1991, second print) vols.1–12.
On the different versions of the Bon po bKa’ ‘gyur as well as a collated index of these,
see Dan Martin (general editor), Per Kvaerne (project coordinator), Yasuhiko Nagano
(series editor), A Catalogue of the Bon Kanjur, Bon Studies 8, Senri Ethnolgical Reports
40 (Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology, 2003).
7. Lha mthu chen dang lha ma yin sde lnga dbang du bsdus nas bon bstan pa’i mdo
las rta mgrin rgyal po’i gzungs, Bon po brten ‘gyur chen mo (Lhasa: Sod ldan Bstan pa’i
nyi ma, 1998), vol. 106, no. 59, ff.1489–1512, hereafter The Lore of the King Rta mgrin.
See also Samten G. Karmay and Yasuhiko Nagano, eds., A Catalogue of the New Collection
of Bonpo Katen Texts—indices, Bon Studies 5, Senri Ethnolgical Reports 25, with CD-ROM
(Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology, 2001), and Samten G. Karmay and Yasuhiko
Nagano, eds., A Catalogue of the New Collection of Bonpo Katen Texts, Bon Studies 4,
Senri Ethnolgical Reports 24 (Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology 2001).
8. The Lore of King Rta mgrin, ff. 1492–93.
9. The Lore of King Rta mgrin, ff. 1493–96.
10. The Taishō versions are: Da kongque mingwang huaxiang tanchang yigui (Taishō
983), Kongque wang zhoujing (Taishō 984), Da kongque wang zhoujing (Taishō 985), Da
jinse kongque wang zhou (Taishō 986); Da jinse kongque wang zhoujing (Taishō 987);
Kongque wang zhoujing (Taishō 988); Kongque wang zhoujing (Taishō 988). The Tibetan
versions are found in the rgyud section of the Bka’ ‘gyur, Rig sngas kyi rgyal mo rma bya
chen mo, in Daisetz T. Suzuki, ed., The Tibetan Tripit·aka, Peking Edition (Kyotō: Tibetan
Tripitaka Research Institute, Otani University), vol. 7, Rgyud XV, no. 178, 111–25. See
also The Digital Sanskrit Buddhist Canon website at http://www.uwest.edu/sanskrit-
canon/; The University of the West, Los Angeles, Nagarjuna Institute of Exact Methods
(A Center For Buddhist Studies) Chakupat, Lalitpur, Nepal, catalogued as: K 303, K 304,
K 305, K 306, K 307, K 373, K 1293, and K 1375. See also its study by des Jardins, Le Sūtra
de la Mahāmāyūrı̄: rituel et politique dans la Chine des Tang (618–906) (Québec: Les
Presses de l’Université Laval, forthcoming).
 rites of the deity tamdrin in contemporary bön 205

11. Kuo, Li-ying, “La recitation des noms de BUDDHA en Chine et au Japon,”
T’oung Pao, no. 81 (1995): 230–68, and for an example of such scriptures, see MS 2153
of the Schøyen Collection in London: http://www.schoyencollection.com/china.htm.
12. Lingbao wuliang durenpin miao jing, Zhentong daozang 1. See also Kristofer
Schipper and Franciscus Verellen, eds., The Taoist Canon: A Historical Companion to the
Daozang (Daozang tongkao) (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004–05).
13. See Michel Strickmann, Mantras et mandarins: le Bouddhisme tantrique en Chine,
Bibliothèque des sciences humaines (Paris: Gallimard, 1996).
14. Gshen gsang ba ‘dus pa is understood in Bön as the main teacher during the
first eon of the propagation of Bön. He is considered the main transmitter of the secret
teachings of the Tantra.
15. Karmay, A Treasury of Good Sayings, 42–43.
16. This is, of course, Padmasambhava. On Padmasambhava in the New Terma
movement of Bön, see Samten G. Karmay, Feast of the Morning Light: The Eighteenth
Century Wood-engravings of Shenrab’s Life-stories and the Bon Canon from Gyalrong, Bon
Studies 9, Senri Ethnological Reports 57 (Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology, 2005);
and Anne-Marie Blondeau, “Mkhyen-bre’i dba-po: la biographie de Padmasambhava
selon la tradition du bsgrags-pa bon, et ses sources,” in Orientalia Iosephi Tucci Memoriae
Dicata, ed. G. Gnoli & L. Lanciotti, 2 vols. (Rome: Istituto italiano per il Medio ed Estremo
Oriente 1988), 1: 111–58.
17. See Karmay and Nagano, A Survey of Bonpo Monasteries, 396–400.
18. His biography was written by Seng ge sprul sku rig ‘dzin nyi ma, Bla ma a
g.yung gi rnam thar dang mchog rgyal gyi rnam thar (Chengdu: Si khrun lho nub mi rig
slob grwa’i par khang, 2003).
19. See William M. Gorvine, “The Life of a Bonpo Luminary: Sainthood,
Partisanship and Literary Representation in 20th Century Tibetan Biography,” Ph.D.
diss., University of Virginia, Charlottesville, 2006. His biography has been published
separately: Bskal bzang bstan pa’i rgyal mtshan, Shar rdzas ba bkra shis rgyal mtshan gyi
rnam thar (Chengdu: Si khron mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 1988).
20. See his autobiography, the ‘Gro ‘dul bstan gnyis gsar gling pa’i skye gnas bar do’i
rnam par thar pa brjod pa sgyu ma’i ‘khrul ‘khor, in Bon gyi brten ‘gyur chen mo, vol. 149,
no. 4, 443–798.
21. At Ye shes Monastery, the Phur gsar cycle of Gsang sngags gling pa is used
most frequently. The Phur rnying is considered to be too complicated and lengthy for
practicing at patrons’ houses. On the Phur ba cycle of rites, see also chapter 3 by Cantwell
and Mayer in this volume.
This page intentionally left blank
9
Texts as Deities
Mongols’ Rituals of Worshipping Sūtras, and Rituals
of Accomplishing Various Goals by Means of Sūtras

vesna a. wallace

From an impressively large variety of Mongolian Buddhist rituals,

I have selected for discussion in this chapter two types of rituals: (1)
those involving the veneration of popular Mahāyāna sūtras that are
accepted as tutelary deities (yi dam) by the Mongols and that prom-
ise various mundane and spiritual blessings to those who venerate,
copy, and recite them, and (2) the protective and healing rituals that
integrate the recitation of these sūtras for the sake of pragmatic aims.
I hope that this brief analysis will shed light on some of the ways in
which these rituals illuminate Mongolian Buddhist culture and pre-
vailing attitudes toward ritual, particularly toward the ritual role of
certain Mahāyāna scriptures.

The Sanctity of Sūtras, and Sanctification

by Means of Sūtras

Before examining the rituals just mentioned, it may be useful to first

provide a brief discussion of the Mongols’ worldview concerning
the scriptures whose worship will be examined later in this chapter.
First of all, in the Mongolian language, the word nom (inherited from
the Sogdian nmw through Uighur1) designates both a book and the
Dharma, implying that the Mongols do not differentiate between the
two. The second line in the salutary words found at the beginning of
many Mongolian Buddhist texts states: “I pay homage to the Dharma
208 tibetan ritual

(nom),”2 implying one’s homage to both the Dharma as an abstraction and

to the physical book. The Mongols’ reverence for Buddhist scriptures is also
expressed in the texts prescribing the various methods of worshipping sūtras
and tantras, making offerings to them, and even giving them alms as if they
were living monks or s´rāman · as.
3

Traditionally, the most venerated Mahāyāna sūtra in Mongolia has been

the As..tasāhasrikāprajñāpāramitā Sūtra.4 Reportedly, already in the thirteenth
century, the Mongols obtained what has come to be known as “Nāgārjuna’s
copy” of this sūtra, which was written in the lentsa (lan tsha, rañjana) script
on seventy birch wood leaves. Since then, the As..t asāhasrikā has been copied,
translated, and printed numerous times. As in Tibet, every Mongolian mon-
astery contains a copy of the As..t asāhasrikāprajñāpāramitā, which is placed on
top of the Kangyur (Bka’ ‘gyur) collection in recognition of its preeminence over
other texts. While the As..t asāhasrikāprajñāpāramitā has been chiefly utilized by
Buddhist clergy, almost every Buddhist household possesses numerous copies
of the Vajracchedikāprajñāpāramitā Sūtra, Suvarn· aprabhāsottama Sūtra, and
Āryāpāramitāyurjñāna Sūtra. The Suvarn · aprabhāsottama, popularly known
as the Altangerel, the Vajracchedikā, known as the Ochiroor Ogtlogch, and the
5

Aparamitāyurjñāna, mostly known as the Tsendü, have been the most popu-
lar and most frequently recited Mahāyāna sūtras in Mongolia owing to their
respective content, functions, and to the usages assigned to them by Mongolian
Buddhist authors and rulers. The popularity of the first two aforementioned
sūtras can be attributed to several political and religious factors.
In the case of the Suvarn · aprabhāsottama, its uniqueness lies in its sancti-
fication of royal power, its call for the loyalty of subjects to their kings, and in
its explicit and primary concern with the mundane well-being of society. It is
for this reason that its translations were widely distributed, its significance for
the courts of the Mongol khans being to strengthen their political power and
to elevate their royal status to that of divine sons (tengri-yin köbegün, devaputra)
and universal monarchs (cakravartin). On the basis of the data available in the
colophons to Mongolian translations of the Suvarn · aprabhāsottama, Tsendiin
Damdinsüren6 and Shagdaryn Bira7 tried to reconstruct the history of this sūtra
in Mongolia. According to the colophons, the first Mongolian translation of
the sūtra dates to the beginning of the fourteenth century, when the Sakya
scholar Sharavsenge (Tib. Shes rab seng ge) translated it from Tibetan, while
consulting Uighur and Chinese versions. Bira’s analysis of the colophon of
what Damdinsüren calls colophon “A,” suggests the year 1332 as the exact date
of Sharavsenge’s translation. It may be especially significant that this was the
period after the enthronement of Togan Temür Khan, the last Mongol khan of
the Yüan Empire, suggesting it may have been a last-ditch effort to preserve
 texts as deities 209

Mongol reign. The colophon praises the khan for his support of the translation
of the sūtra, deems him a Bodhisattva who has never abandoned the spirit of
awakening (bodhicitta) and compares him to the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara in
exhibiting the latter’s qualities of peacefulness, tolerance, and gentleness.8 This
first translation of the sūtra instigated the first wave of its popularity.
Another important phase in the history of the worship of the Suvarn ·a-
prabhāsottama was the reign of Altan Khan (1507–81), who was responsible
for its large-scale reproduction and its widest distribution among the Mongols.
The colophon to the manuscript held in the Oriental collections of the Hungar-
ian Academy of Sciences in Budapest and studied by György Kara mentions
a ritual consecration of the printing of the sūtra by decree of Altan Khan in
1584.9 Since the time of Altan Khan, thirty different Mongolian versions of the
Suvarn ·aprabhāsottama have been produced in Mongolia.
10

In the case of the Vajracchedikā, one of the factors that contributed to its
popularity in Mongolia was the decree of the Manchu emperor Kangxi (1661–
1772). That decree mandated that all Mongolian households keep in their
possession the Vajracchedikā, along with the other four texts: As..t asāhasrikā,
Suvarn ·aprabhāsottama, Pañcaraks.ā, and Sangdui (Tib. Gzungs bsdus, a collec-
tion of dhāran ·ı̄s), also known in Mongolia as Nuutsyn Khuraangui. Another
factor was the proliferation of Mongolian commentarial works on this sūtra,
which began in the late sixteenth century, and which emphasized its unique
significance and limitless powers.
Although the Mongols had encountered the Vajracchedikā at the latest in
the fourteenth century, when they acquired a copy of the Kangyur, written in
Tibetan and known as “Butön’s copy,” the earliest Mongolian translation of the
Vajracchedikā dates back at least to the formation of the Mongolian Kangyur in
the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries.
The catalogue of the archives of the St. Petersburg Branch of the Institute of
Oriental Studies of the Russian Academy of Sciences alone lists fifteen Mongo-
lian versions of commentaries on the Vajracchedikā: two consist of twenty-two
chapters, one consists of thirteen chapters, and the rest consist of fifteen chap-
ters.11 Other versions with thirteen, fifteen, and twenty-two chapters are kept in
the State Central Library in Ulaanbaatar and in the Royal Library in Copenha-
gen. The study of Mongolian commentaries on the Vajracchedikā reveals that
their authors were not particularly intent on interpreting and elucidating the
doctrinal points of the sūtra, but were almost entirely concerned with its magi-
cal powers and with the great benefits it procures for those who worship, recite,
teach, and copy it. One of the most renowned of such commentaries is the
text entitled The Sūtra that Explains the Benefits of the Vajracchedikā (Včir-iyar
oγtaluγči-yin ači tusa-yin nomlaγsan sudur),12 which was most likely composed
210 tibetan ritual

in the late sixteenth century. In subsequent centuries, it appeared in numer-

ous manuscript versions. Different versions of this commentarial text contain
descriptions of the extraordinary powers of the Vajracchedikā, illustrated in
the narratives depicting the ways in which various individuals and groups of
people benefited from it. These stories provide the reader with some insight
into the functions and uses of the Vajracchedikā in Mongolia and the reasons
behind them. In the twenty-first chapter of a long version of this commentary,
it is written that the god Indra, accompanied by a retinue of 80,000 gods, hav-
ing attended and delighted in the Buddha’s teaching on the Vajracchedikā,
promised their help to those who recite the sūtra—so that they may accomplish
any task both in the present and in future lives. To guarantee this promise,
Indra sealed the sūtra, and for this reason the Vajracchedikā has ever since been
referred to also as the “sealed sūtra” (tamgat sudar) that contains limitless bless-
ings.13 The twenty-second chapter of the same text explains twenty-two ways in
which the power of this “sealed sūtra” can contribute to one’s well-being by way
of its transformative, curative, protective, and soteriological efficacy. It is the
indestructible weapon that cuts off all forms of suffering at its root.
Like the Suvarn·aprabhāsottama, it facilitates rebirth in the heavens of
Sukhāvatı̄ and Tus·ita; it prevents wars, prolongs one’s life span, and brings
about Buddhahood. Yama, the lord of death, himself recognizing in his encoun-
ters with the dead that the powers of the sūtra exceed his own, desires that the
sūtra be recited for his benefit as well. In one example, Lord Yama bestows a
gift of silk to a dead monk who recites the sūtra for him in his palace, and he
sends the monk back to the world of the living, where he enjoys a long life to
the age of ninety-five. To benefit from the sūtra’s power, one is not required to
fathom the depths of its meaning, but one is advised to have faith in it, venerate
it, and make various offerings to it. The commentary strongly encourages one
to worship the sūtra as one’s own chosen deity (yi dam, is..t a-devatā) or to recite
it to those who have accepted it as their chosen deity.
We know why the Vajracchedikā has gained the status of a chosen deity in
Mongolia from accounts that have been handed down and preserved to this day
in the oral tradition. According to this tradition, as the “king of the perfection of
wisdom” (prajñāpāramitā-rāja), the Vajracchedikā contains the quintessence of
the prajñāpāramitā. It is for this reason that the nineteenth-century author Dav-
agjaltsan (Güüsh Girdi Duaz), in his Explanation of the Vajracchedikā, praises
the sūtra as the highest among all the teachings of the Buddha.14 As a container
of the essence of the prajñāpāramitā, the Vajracchedikā has been viewed as a
symbol of emptiness and as the quintessence of the sūtrayāna as a whole. As
such, it has been treated as a counterpart to another highly esteemed and popu-
lar text in Mongolia, the Guhyasamāja Tantra, which, being a “king of tantras”
 texts as deities 211

(tantra-rāja) has stood as a symbol of bliss and as the epitome of the tantrayāna.
These two texts traditionally have been bound together in a cloth cover (bar-
indag), placed in the same box, and kept on the household altar as objects
of veneration. Bound together in this way, as the yab yum, they signified the
union of bliss and emptiness and the union of the sūtrayāna and tantrayāna.15
Representing in this way the Buddha’s dharmakāya understood as both the
Buddha’s mind and the body of his teachings, the presence of these two texts
in one’s home has indicated the blessing-bestowing presence of the Buddha
and his Dharma, which consecrates and transforms one’s ordinary dwelling
into a shrine (caitya).16 This accords with the passage of the Vajracchedikā in
which the Buddha points out that any part of the world in which this sūtra is
propagated will become like a shrine (caitya), honored by gods, men, and evil
spirits. Therefore, every Mongolian home that contains the sūtra may at times
function as a shrine. The twenty-second chapter of a long version of the Sūtra
that Describes the Benefits of the Vajracchedikā17 tells of people who showed their
reverence to the sūtra by carrying it on their heads, while circumambulating
their homes and stūpas.
Both texts, the Vajracchedikā and the Guhyasamāja Tantra, have been also
used by Mongolian Buddhists as talismans. For this purpose, these two texts
have been produced in small pocket-size copies (Figure 9.1). Traditionally,

figure 9.1. Two pocket-sized texts from Mongolia, one of the Vajracchedikā
and the other of the Guhyasamāja, wrapped in their traditional cloth covers.
Photo: J. Cabezón (2008).
212 tibetan ritual

Mongolian monks have carried the Guhyasamāja in the pockets of their robes,
and lay people have carried the Vajracchedikā. In this way, the entire Mongolian
Buddhist community has been divided into the carriers of the two aspects of
the Buddha’s mind—bliss and emptiness—symbolically transforming Mongo-
lian society into the Dharma-body of the Buddha.
The Guhyasamāja Tantra, being a textual body of the Buddha, at times has
also functioned as the body’s preservative. For example, the following practice
involving a use of the Guhyasamāja Tantra can be still encountered in Mongo-
lia’s countryside. When a person living in a remote area dies during the warm
summer season and the corpse needs to be preserved from decay until all the
relatives of the deceased arrive from different parts of the country, a long cord
is wrapped around the Guhyasamāja Tantra, and the end of the cord is placed
in the mouth of the deceased.
As for the Vajracchedikā, its words are deemed an expression of the Bud-
dha’s perfection of wisdom, and therefore, the power that dwells in a single
page or in two lines of the sūtra is believed to have the same efficacy as the
power of the entire text. According to the aforementioned commentary, a
young servant girl came across a single page of the text and recited two lines
from it; she found a wealthy husband and eventually took rebirth in heaven.
Moreover, as a unique text that reflects the realm of the Buddha’s perfection
of wisdom, the Vajracchedikā itself comes to be reflected in the understanding
of its interpreter, thus making a commentarial text yet another reflection of
the Buddha’s mind. It is perhaps for this reason that the author of one of the
existing versions of the Explanation of the Benefits of the Vajracchedikā, a version
containing twenty chapters, concludes his commentary with the statement:

It is said that if one reads or causes others to read, and if one copies or
causes others to copy this Explanation of the Benefits of the Vajracchedikā,
one will surely gain the merit of accomplishing and praising the body
of the 84,000 Dharmas; in this life, one’s virtue, lifespan, and health
will increase, and any deed will be accomplished. In the future, one
will attain Buddhahood.18

Thus, the efficacy of the Vajracchedikā as the expression of the Buddha’s aware-
ness does not end with this sūtra, but continues in the texts and commentaries
in which it is correctly reflected and in the consciousness of those who under-
stand its effectiveness in transforming the mundane and spiritual aspects of
life. Because of this, one may say that the sūtra simultaneously operates on two
planes—the ultimate and conventional. It is the unmediated reality, a pure self-
expression of the Buddha, which is unique and non-replicable; and at the same
 texts as deities 213

time, it is a reproducible text that has a second author—a person who copies,
recites, or explains it, who may or may not correctly reflect the ultimate reality
of the text and who inevitably brings to it the perspective of his Mongolian cul-
ture, mitigating the sūtra’s cultural accommodation. Thus, the Vajracchedikā is
not to be seen as a static body of words, finalized in time. Rather, it is subject
to a continuous process of reflecting the ultimate for as long as it is copied,
recited, read, and explained.
In Mongolian Buddhist culture, the approach to a sūtra as a representa-
tion of the Buddha’s mind and body traditionally has not been restricted to
the aforementioned Mahāyāna sūtras alone, or even to Mahāyāna sūtras and
tantras in general. In Mongolian Buddhist culture, the term sudar (Skt. sūtra)
designates not only the Buddhist canonical sources containing discourses of
the Buddha, but also any Buddhist work of Mongolian origin. Upon acquiring
the Buddhist canon, the Mongols created their own tradition of the portion of
the canon known as the sūtra pi·t aka, which, according to Mongolian sources,
can be classified into different categories—namely, philosophical, historical,
prophetic, medical, and veterinary sūtras, sūtras of omens, sūtras of customs,
sūtras of the signs of places, and sūtras of dream signs. To the Mongols, their
own sūtra tradition constitutes a continuation and enrichment of the canonical
sūtra pit. aka.19
Likewise, as evidenced by their ritual worship and usages, the Mongols’
veneration of the book also extends to the summaries of the canonical sūtras,
which were composed by Mongolian authors.20

Rituals of Worshipping Sūtras and Ritual Usages of Sūtras

The rituals of worshipping the texts discussed earlier and the rituals of accom-
plishing the desired goal by means of ritual recitation or copying of the texts
reveal that one does not need to have a semantic understanding of the texts in
order to derive benefits from them, for the extraordinary powers that are inher-
ent in them are always present. However, it is only through the veneration of
the sūtras and through their ritual recitation that one can set their powers in
motion and navigate them in a particular direction.
When examining the sources relevant to the study of a ritual veneration
of sūtras, one may at first wonder whether it is possible to differentiate clearly
between the ritual and nonritual forms of sūtra worship. Some of them are eas-
ily recognizable as explicitly regulated and stylized performative actions that
are characterized by formality and repetition, which are clearly ritualistic, while
214 tibetan ritual

others appear to be only implicitly so on account of lacking the visible formality

and stylization.
The rituals of venerating the sūtras can be classified into two groups: pri-
vate and public. As one looks at the instructions on how to reverently copy or
read a sūtra, which have traditionally been passed down from teacher to dis-
ciple, it becomes evident that the suggested ways of reading and writing down
the sūtra are private, ritualized practices. For example, the guidelines for copy-
ing a text demonstrate that the act of copying is to be approached as the ritual
practice of constructing a textual man · d·ala. When setting out to copy a text,
one is to think of the Buddha Amitābha, and when writing down letters, one
is to think of Avalokiteśvara. One should imagine the book’s paper to be his
incomparable palace and the ink and pen to be his skillful means and wisdom.
Lifting the right side of the page is to be imagined as a token of one’s respect
for the nobility, and lifting the left side of the page as a sign of one’s concern for
commoners. The upper edge of the page represents the sky, and the lower edge
of the page is the golden world, or the earth. The letters are to be imagined as
the means of assisting sentient beings by means of one’s own various incarna-
tions. At the completion of copying the book, one is to generate the aspiration
never to be separated from the Three Jewels in this and all future lives. Only
such a way of copying a text is said to be auspicious.
Similarly, in the ritual of reading, or reciting, a sūtra, prior to unwrapping the
book’s cloth cover (barindag), one is to generate faith and meditate on the Four
Immeasurables (dörvön tsaglashgüi). When unwrapping the book, one should
imagine oneself as loosening the ties of spiritual ignorance. When placing the
book on a table, one is to imagine the four Māras being crushed. The opening
of the book should be seen as a meeting with the Buddha. One is to think of
the book’s hard cover as a Buddha’s man · d·ala-palace, and the book’s paper as his
divine silken clothing. Likewise, one is to think of the words in the book as being
of the nature (mön činar, svabhāva) of the Buddha’s body, and the stanzas as being
of the nature of spiritual awakening. One should also imagine the dots (Mong.
tseg, Tib. tsheg) as being of the nature of nirvān · a and the lines of the text to be the
Bodhisattva path of training. Furthermore, one should look upon the circular pat-
tern of letters as the Buddha’s eye of gnosis (belge bilgiin nüd, Skt. jñāna-caks·u),
and upon the edges of the book as devoid of the two extremes of substantialism
and nihilism. And finally, when reading the book aloud, one is to imagine it as the
sounding of the Dharma-drum filling the three worlds with a Dharma-song.21
These stylized manners of copying and reciting a sūtra can be char-
acterized as a regulative type of a ritual, which orients a preexisting activ-
ity of reading and writing to that which transcends the ordinary, everyday
 texts as deities 215

experience of these activities by transforming their aesthetic and perfor-

mative styles. As such, they are a withdrawal from the ordinary world into
extraordinary space, time, and action. Integrating two different, but simul-
taneously performed actions—the physical and the mental—these ritual-
ized practices of reading and copying a text activate one’s sense-faculties
into a reorganization of the experience of the text and into a possible refor-
mulation of knowledge regarding the transcendent nature of both the text
and one’s own mind and body. Imbued by symbols pointing to the ultimate,
these two ritualized practices are the enactments of the idea of the unitary
nature of one’s own and of the Buddha’s mind and body. As such, they
function as the medium for the experience of the text not as a mere symbol
of ultimate reality, but as the physical and textual embodiment of that real-
ity. In this way, they are the means for replicating the ongoing process of
spiritual awakening
While these explicitly formalized methods of venerating sūtras easily lend
themselves to a ritual interpretation, other reverent modes of reciting or han-
dling a sūtra may pose a challenge to the interpreter. Since the ritual’s formal-
ized style is only implicitly present in them, they may not at first appear to be
ritual actions. Instances of such modes of veneration abound in copious Mon-
golian versions of texts that illustrate the benefits of worshipping the Vajrac-
chedikā Sūtra as one’s own tutelary deity. They recount the events in the lives
of ordinary individuals who gained desired benefits from reciting the sūtra in
a nonregulated manner when faced with the immediate dangers of demons,
enemies, hell, and so on, or from handling it in a respectful manner, whether
fully aware of it or not.22
In all the given instances of the recitation of the Vajracchedikā, the empha-
sis is placed on the fact that the utterance of the sūtra has mobilized its transfor-
mative power and actualized its hidden truth by altering the events, the states
of mind, and experiences of everyone involved. In these instances, the recita-
tion of the sūtra is not a mere verbalization of its content; it is an enactment of
the sūtra as a tutelary deity.
Since in all the cases mentioned, the recitation of the Vajracchedikā trans-
forms people and events, one can also categorize it as what J. L. Austin and
John R. Searle call “an illucotionary act,” or a “performative utterance”—that is,
an utterance that does not merely say something, but also does something, and
is therefore ritualistic. The recitation of the Vajracchedikā is an inexplicit per-
formative utterance, which accomplishes things through both its operational
and explicitly stated meanings. Therefore, I propose that even the nonstylized
and less-formalized modes of reciting the sūtra, as exemplified in the various
216 tibetan ritual

versions of the Mongolian texts on the Benefits of Worshipping the Vajracchedikā,

can be considered ritualistic.
Furthermore, one also encounters in the Mongolian Buddhist tradition
the rituals for worshipping sūtras through both offerings and recitations. These
rituals do not stand by themselves, but are integrated into multiphased and
multileveled rituals that have other functions as well. In these rituals, as in the
aforementioned examples, the rites of worshipping the sūtra have pragmatic
purposes and are not performed for the sake of mere worship. These rituals are
not private; they are performed for others and in the presence of others.
An example of such rituals is found in the text called A Summary of the
Āyuh.sūtra or Āryāyurjñāna (Khutagt Tseden-ish Buyu Tsend-Ayush Khemeekh
Sudryn Quraangui Orshvoi), which is an abbreviation of the Aparamitāyurjñāna-
mahāyānasūtra, popularly known among the Mongols as a “children’s sūtra.”
The content of the sūtra itself predominantly consists of the enumeration of
the rewards resulting from its veneration, among which the most emphasized
reward is a long lifespan, bestowed by the Tathāgata Aparamitāyurjñānasuviniś-
cayatejorāja, who resides in the Aparamitagun · asam
· caya (“Collection of Limit-
less Virtues”) world-system (loka-dhātu). The Summary primarily functions as a
ritual text of benediction for the blessings contained in the Aparamitāyurjñāna.
It is ritually recited for the sake of the long life of infants and children, and
for their protection from the fifteen types of spirits causing fifteen varieties of
children’s diseases.23 It is also recited to prolong the life of the elderly who are
nearing death. However, the recitation of the Summary also performs another
function, without which, its main function could not be accomplished. As a
container of the essence of the Aparamitāyurjñāna, this benedictory text itself
is considered worthy of veneration, a fountain of the accumulation of manifold
virtues and blessings. Therefore, it should be worshipped and performed on
astrologically significant days. The introductory paragraph states this in the
following way:

If one worships, reads, and writes this benediction of the famous

Long-life Sūtra during the years that coincide with one “black life-force
stone” (amiin chuluu, Tib. srog), one “black body-stone” (bieiin chuluu),
and one “black life-principle stone” (süldnii chuluu, Tib. bla), long life
and merit will flourish through the line of one’s descendents.24

In Mongolian astrology, the aforementioned black stones, which signify

inauspiciousness, together with white stones as their counterparts, are used in
preparing one’s yearly horoscope to determine whether the juncture of the three
types of significant factors—namely, the five bodily constituents,25 the element
of one’s birth year,26 and the element of a current year—is auspicious or not.27
 texts as deities 217

The same paragraph also informs one of the types of offerings28 that are
to be given in the rite of worship that is followed by the recitation of the sūtra’s
108-syllable mantra.29 Once the offerings to the Summary are made and the
mantra is recited, the main part of the ritual consists of a recitation of the Sum-
mary as a benediction. Since a ritual of benediction is efficacious only when
the text is properly worshipped, it is to be preceded by the worship of the text
through offerings. However, the recitation of the benediction itself is also an
act of worshipping the Aparamitāyurjñāna. Thus, one rite of worship must be
performed so that the second rite of worship can take place. The ritual as a
whole clearly has a dual function, which is reflected in its dual performative
features—namely, in the performance using multiple media such as offerings
intended for the text, and in the performative utterances of the text that are
implicitly directed toward the life-determining karma and to the spirits causing
illnesses.
A similar example of such a ritual is also presented by A Summary of the
Noble Suvarn · aprabhāsottama-nāma-mahāyānasūtra (Deed bütsen khölgön altan-
gerel nert sudryn khuurangui orshivoi), which is a benediction for the blessing of
the Suvarn· aprabhāsottama. Its Summary begins with prefatory words declaring
the protection of the State as a main purpose of the ritual benediction. It states:
“Inherited by this pure lineage of the Father Sky above the Mother Earth below,
the entire benediction, [which is] a eulogy and a decree of restoring, observ-
ing, pacifying, and uniting the noble principle of the state-family established
by the Lord (ezen) Bogd Chinggis is contained here.”30 These opening words
to the Buddhist benediction reveal the integrative character of a ritual, whose
Buddhist identity is not separate from that of the Mongolian, pre-Buddhist reli-
gion of Tengerrism, according to which, the Father, Eternal Heaven destines
all things from above—including the origin of the ruling lineage of Chinggis
Khan and his rise to power—while, the earth goddess, Mother Etüken, protects
the Mongols’ ruling family.
This declaration precedes the two-phased ritual of worshipping the Sum-
mary itself. The first phase involves arranging specific types of offerings31 to
the text in the prescribed image of thirteen mountains; and the second phase
involves a sādhana practice in which the performer purifies his body by imagin-
ing himself attaining the Buddha’s body. He also recites the mantras for remov-
ing obstacles32 and invites his tutelary deity into his mind in order to purify the
offerings. Here too, a ritual veneration of the text through offerings must pre-
cede the actual ritual of benediction; but in this case, the ritual of veneration of
the text is itself a multileveled ritual performance. As in the previous example,
the multiple functions of this ritual correspond to its multiple performative
features—the third being a formalized, mental performance, or sādhana.
218 tibetan ritual

In these two rituals that involve the veneration of the abridged versions of
the Aparamitāyurjñāna and the Suvarn · aprabhāsottama, which consist chiefly
of the sūtras’ mantras, invocations, and prayers, the text, which is an object
of a ritual veneration, also becomes a ritual subject, after being activated as a
tutelary deity through worship and enacted through a performative utterance.
Thus, one could say that there are two different, but mutually dependent agents
in these two rituals: the person performing the ritual and a text as a tutelary
deity that accomplishes things through the ritual.
The fact that the Suvarn · aprabhāsottama was not the only Mahāyāna sūtra
considered appropriate for the recitation rituals for the protection of the state
and nation is evidenced in the epistle of the Eighth Jebtsundamba (Tib. Rje
btsun dam pa) Khutukhtu (1870–1924), the last theocratic monarch of Mon-
golia and the sixth in the line of the Khutukhtus chosen among Tibetans, to
Khalkha Mongols, and other Mongolian ethnic groups. In his epistle, he exhorts
the Mongolian nobility to recite the As..tasāhasrikāprajñāpāramitā in all four sea-
sons of the year and urges the assemblies of monks to recite the Prajñāpāramitā
[-h·rdaya-sūtra] for deliverance from the great calamities threatening the Mon-
gols and their livestock due to both the ongoing increase of Chinese population
among them and Chinese economic and cultural dominance generally.33
Furthermore, the identity of the text and its related power become impor-
tant in healing and protective rites. An examination of these kinds of rituals
sheds light on the ways in which the Mongols conceptualized the distinct
identities and related powers of the previously mentioned sūtras, and it further
explains why several of these Mahāyāna sūtras were included in various tantra
sections of the Mongolian Kangyur.34 The textual sources that I have been able
to access so far reveal that among all the Mahāyāna sūtras in the Mongolian
Kangyur, only the Suvarn · aprabhāsottama, the As..tasāhasrikāprajñāpāramitā,
the Prajñāpāramitā-h·rdaya Sūtra, and the Vajracchedikā, together with various
dhārān·is, have been put to use in these rituals. As in the previously discussed
rituals, here too the recitation of the sūtras does not require a semantic under-
standing of the texts, since their innate powers emerge merely through the
reverent modes of reciting them or holding them in one’s hands.
For example, according to the Tsepel Wangchug Dorje’s (Tshe ‘phel dbang
phyug rdo rje) Manual for Healing Diseases of Sheep (Rdzi bo sogs la phan ‘dogs
par bya rgyu lug thabs kyi rim pa rnams las spyi dang bye brag lug nad bcos pa’i
bskor lags), when a sheep becomes afflicted with the disease called khorkhiroo,
one must recite the Suvarn· aprabhāsottama three times and perform the rite
of purification with holy water (rasiyan, Skt. rasāyāna) three times both in the
morning and evening.35 Likewise, even today when Mongolian nomadic fami-
lies wish to ensure the health and prosperity of their sheep and goats, they
 texts as deities 219

ceremonially carry the Suvarn·aprabhāsottama in their hands as they circumam-

bulate their herd’s shelter three times.36
Furthermore, a text that instructs a healer on how to interpret the signs on
the horse he rides when he goes to examine a sick man and the manner in which
the man summoning him has arrived,37 advises the healer to do the following.
If the person who has come to summon him sits down with one knee bent, he
is to recite the Suvarn ·aprabhāsottama, make incense offerings, and set out the
body-substitute, clothes, and boots of the sick man. When a man who is sum-
moning a healer sits in this manner, this indicates that that the sick man has
eaten carrion that has been taken by some animal, on account of which he has
been afflicted by demons, and will soon vomit and suffer from sharp abdominal
pains.38 Therefore, the recitation of the Suvarn ·aprabhāsottama has to be under-
taken as a remedial strategy for exorcising demons out of that sick man.
As in the past, in the contemporary period, when the As..t asāhasrikāprajñā-
pāramitā is ceremonially recited in a healing rite on behalf of a person facing
death, for the sake of enhancing the healing efficacy of both the text and its
ritual recitation, a copy printed in the color red, the color of power and ferocity,
is invariably used.
The Mongolian translation of the Tibetan text, The Order of the Holy Panchen
Erdeni, of His Gegeen the Dalai Lama, and of the Holy Chinggis Khan, which was
prepared at the time of the Eighth Jebtsundamba Khutukhtu when the epidem-
ics of syphilis and hepatitis were afflicting the Khalkha Mongols, urges its read-
ers to recite the Prajñāpāramitā and the mantra of the Suvarn ·aprabhāsottama
for the sake of the deliverance from these epidemics. 39

Similarly, in his epistle to the Mongols, called the Prophecy of the Holy
Gegeen, the Eighth Jebtsundamba Khututkhu urges the Mongols to recite the
As..t asāhasrikāprajñāpāramitā and the Vajracchedikā in order to deliver them-
selves from the sins of smoking various kinds of tobacco and drinking alcohol,
which brought them “the black and red rulers of tuberculosis.”40
As attested in the text called the Examination of Shoulder Blades (Daluu
üjilge orusibai),41 which was studied in detail by Charles Bawden, the recita-
tion of the Suvarn·aprabhāsottama or the As..t asāhasrikāprajñāpāramitā is also
a part of the protective rites, and its performance is based on predictions
received during a divination by scapulimancy.42 For example, if the color of
a certain topographical area on the bone appears pale like ashes, this is an
omen indicating bad things to come. In that case, one is advised to recite the
Suvarn· aprabhāsottama every month for a year. Similarly, if the neck on the top-
ographical location on the bone breaks, this is a sign that grief and repentance
will take place during that year. In that case, one should recite the As..t asāha-
srikāprajñāpāramitā, perform pūjas, and make prostrations at shrines and
220 tibetan ritual

temples. Or if one notices a black crack in the left-hand corner of the shoulder
blade, one must recite the Prajñāpāramitā[h·rdaya Sūtra], together with the Tsa-
gaan Shukhert (White Umbrella) dhāran ·i, numerous times, and one must per-
form the rites of inhibition (qarigulga) and the rite for counteracting quarrels.
Likewise, while examining the cracks that appear on the scorched left-hand
shoulder blade in order to determine the outcome of an illness, if one notices
an omen that predicts a success in finding a helpful healer, one must recite
several times the Suvarn · aprabhāsottama or the As..t asāhasrikāprajñāpāramitā.
In addition to that, one is to make offerings of candles and incense to one’s
own shrines and monasteries and offerings of tea to the monks during temple
ceremonies.43
So far, we have seen that not only the performative utterances of differ-
ent sūtras, but also those of the very same sūtra, may have different functions
according to the different ritual contexts in which they are used. Depending on
the intended goal of its ritual context, the same sūtra can alter the experience
of the ritual performer, prolong life, protect the state, exorcise demons, cure
humans and livestock, and prevent possible unpleasant events in one’s life.
Although it retains its recognizable, divine identity throughout different types
of rituals, it might not remain unchanged owing to the possible plurality of
performative styles.
One could say, in conclusion, that the Mongolian ritual uses of the Mahā-
yāna sūtras mentioned in this chapter support other, extant evidence which
show that certain Mahāyāna sūtras, having been deemed tutelary deities, could
no longer be confined to the walls of monasteries or to the interiors of stūpas.
They became an integral part of a daily religious life on the steppe. Once
conceived as tutelary deities, their domains of influence and their functions
expanded. A ritual, on the other hand, provided a technique for communicat-
ing their divinity and making it accessible to experiences that go far beyond the
textual domains.

notes
1. The Sogdian nwm is related to the Greek nomos, and comes from the root mean-
ing a “law.” The word nom was originally used by Sogdians and Uighurs to denote the
Buddha Dharma.
2. Burqan-dur mörgümüi. Nom-dur mörgümüi. Bagsi-dur mörgümüi.
3. One such example is the “Deed bütsen khölgön altangerel nert sudryn khuraan-
gui orshivoi,” in Khünii nasan zayaany amydral ajil üilsiig devjen ösgökh Burkhany surgaa-
liin khuraangui, compiled by Getsel Tüvdenvaanchüg (Ulaanbaatar: Uranbishrelt,
2004), 50.
 texts as deities 221

4. It is the largest book in the Mongolian National Central State Library in

Ulaanbaatar. It measures 32 ∑ 91 cm, and is written on a black paper with ink made of
gold, silver, and nine precious stones.
5. Its full title in the classical Mongolian translations most commonly appears as
the Qutug tu degedü altan gerel-tü sudur-nug udun qag an neretü yeke kölgen sudur.
6. TsendiinDamdinsüren,“TwoMongolianColophonstotheSuvarn ·aprabhāsottama-
sūtra,” Acta orientalia Academiae scientiarum Hungaricae (AOH) 33, fasc. 1 (1979): 39.
7. Shagdaryn Bira, “The Worship of the Suvarn · aprabhāsottama-sūtra in Mongolia”
in Mongolyn tüükh, soyel, tüükh bichlegiin sudalgaa, ed. Ts. Ishdorj and Kh. Purevtogtokh,
Studies in Mongolian History, Culture, and Historiography: Selected Papers 3 (Ulaan-
baatar: International Association for Mongol Studies, Mongolian Academy of Sciences,
Institute of History, International Institute for the Study of Nomadic Civilization, 2001),
322–31.
8. Shagdaryn Bira, “The Worship of the Suvarn ·aprabhāsottama-sūtra in
Mongolia,” 2001, 323.
9. Shagdaryn Bira, “The Worship of the Suvarn·aprabhāsottama-sūtra in
Mongolia,” 2001, 325.
10. Tsendiin Damdinsüren, Mongolyn Uran Zokhiolyn Toim, 2 vols. (Ulaanbaatar:
Bembi San, 1999) 2: 158. Pentti Aalto in his “Notes on the Altan Gerel,” Studia Orientalia
Edidit Societas Orientalis Fennica, 14/6 (1950): 4–26, analyzes three Mongolian versions
of the text that are kept in the Ethnographical Museum in Sweden and points to the
existing internal evidence that suggests that these translations were not based solely on
Tibetan versions, but that their translators also utilized the Chinese version prepared by
Yijing and certain Sanskrit versions.
11. Aleksei Georgievich Sazykin, Katalog mongolskih rukopisei i ksilografov instituta
vostokovodeniya akademii nauk SSSR (Moskva: Nauka, 1988) 95–98. D. Tserensodnom,
Mongolyn Burkhany Shashny Uran Zokhiol, 2 vols. (Ulaanbaatar: Shinjlekh Ukhaany
Akademiin Khel Zokhiolyn Khureelen, 1997) 1: 282, mentions twenty versions listed in
Sazykin’s catalogue. However, I have found only fifteen. One of the fifteen texts is
incomplete and consists of eleven chapters.
12. It was also known under the title Gčodba-yin tayilburi.
13. Tserensodnom, Mongolyn Burkhany Shashny Uran Zohiol, 1: 284.
14. The manuscript of the Včir-iyar ogtalug či-yin tailburi, held at the State Central
Library in Ulaanbatar was composed in 1871 and consists of fifteen chapters.
15. This information was provided by Munkhtaivan Lama during an interview con-
ducted in July of 2005 in Ulaanbaatar.
16. Cf. the passage of the Vajracchedikā in which the Buddha points out that any
part of the world in which this sūtra will be propagated will become like a shrine (caitya),
honored by gods, men, and evil spirits.
17. Tserensodnom, Mongolyn Burkhany Shashny Uran Zokhiol, 1: 284.
18. Ochiroor Ogtlogchiin Tus Erdem, translated from Tibetan and transliterated
from the classical Mongolian script into Cyrillic by G. Chantsal and L. Dulamsuren
(Ulaanbaatar: New Mind Technology, 2000), 48: “Bilgüün chanad khyazgaar khürsen
Ochiroor ogtlogchiin tus erdmiin tailbar üüniig unshvaas, unshuulvaas, bichvees, bichüül-
222 tibetan ritual

bees, nayiman tümen, dörvön myangan nomyn tsogtssyn tus erdmiig magtan unshsan, büt-
eesnii buyanyg olj ene nasand nas buyan, erkhten khiimory delgerch, alivaa üils büteed, etses
khoitod body khutiig olokh ny damjiggüi khemeen nomlojee.”
19. See Lkhamsurengiin Khürelbaatar, Sudar Shastir Bilig (Ulaanbaatar: Institute
of Language and Literature, Academy of Sciences, 2002), 342–43.
20. Summaries of the sūtras not only made the teachings of the sūtras available to
the broader audience, but they also became commonly used in rituals requiring read-
ings of sūtras. Probably the most popular summaries were those of the Suvarn ·aprabhā-
sottama. Among the birch bark manuscripts discovered in the stūpa at Kharburkhyn
Balgas in Bulgan aimag and dating from the later part of the seventeenth century, at
least ten different copies are summaries of the Suvarn ·aprabhāsottama. Those studied by
Elisabetta Choido in The Mongolian Manuscripts on Birch Bark from Xarbuxyn Balgas in
the Collection of the Mongolian Academy of Sciences, Part 1 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz
Verlag, 2000), 71–87, contain passages reminiscent of the popular Mongolian folk reli-
gious texts invoking the spirits—guardians of mountains and other localities, and the
elements of the Mongolian shamanic religion.
21. Ch. Narantuya, Mongol Bichmel Sudryn Tovd (Ulaanbaatar: Admon, 2002), 177.
22. This is illustrated by the story of a seven-year-old girl who walked seven steps
with the sūtra on her head in order to free her father’s hands as he tried to move a large
stone from the road; she was consequently reborn seven times in the trayastrim · śa heaven
and eventually attained spiritual awakening. One such texts is The Sūtra that Explains
the Benefits of the Vajracchedikā (Včir-iyar ogtalugči-yin ači tusa-yin nomlagsan sudur),
most likely composed in the late sixteenth century.
23. Diseases range from eye-defects, intolerable diarrhea, spasms, bodily pains,
fear attacks accompanied by crying, sore throat, squalling, cough, insomnia, enraged
shrieks, impeded movement, aversion to the mother’s breasts, and bodily chills, to pro-
ducing various odors and forms. Commonly in the case of a sick child, and occasionally
in the case of an old person facing impending death, its recitation is followed by the
reading of another short ritual text called the Tridaśa-cakra (Arvan Gurvan Khürden
Orshvoi), whose sole function is to expel and divert various types of malevolent spirits
such as cause all sorts of difficulties in one’s life.
24. “Khutagt Tseden-Ish Buyu Tsend-Ayush Khemeekh Sudryn Khuraangui
Orshvoi,” in Getsel Tüvdenvaanchüg, compiler, Khünii nasan, 207.
25. The five main life constituents are life force (amy), body (bie), sense-faculties
(erkhten), wind-horse (khiimori), and life-principle (süld).
26. The element of one’s birth year can be any of these five: fire, earth, iron, water,
or wood.
27. When the juncture of these three factors coincides with a black life-force stone
or with a black body-stone on the astrological chart, this is interpreted as an inauspi-
cious sign indicating a threat to one’s vital force or a serious physical illness during that
year. At times, it is possible that even two or three black life-stones or black body-stone
appear, in which case, it is seen as an indication of even a greater inauspiciousness in
one’s life-force or in the body. Similarly, if the juncture of those elements coincides with
a black life-principle stone, it is an indication of the decline of one’s life-principle and of
the inauspicious omens that will soon start to appear in one’s dreams or visions.
 texts as deities 223

28. The offerings consist of tsha tshas, incense, rosary, perfume, and enkhmel
flower.
29. The mantra is: Om · namo bhagavate aparamitāyur-jñāna-suviniścita-tejo-rajāya
thatāgatāya arhate sam · yaksam · buddhāya tadyathā om · pun · ya-mahāpun · ya aparamitapun
· ya
aparamitāyur-pun · ya-jñāna-sam · bhāropacite, om
· sarvasam· skāra-pariśuddhadharmate gagana-
samudgate svabhāvapariśuddhe mahānayaparivāre svāha.
30. “Deed bütsen khölgön altangerel nert sudryn khuraangui orshivoi,” in Getsel
Tüvdenvaanchüg, compiler, Khünii nasan, 50.
31. The text mentions the following nine kinds of offerings: tea, milk, water (or
alcohol), five grains as nutrients of a soil, five types of food, five types of nutrients, nine
kinds of the best quality objects, five purifying scents, five vital organs (the heart, liver,
lungs, spleen, and kidneys) that produce nourishment to the body, six [offering] bowls,
eight auspicious emblems (umbrella, fish, vase, flower, conch, lucky diagram, victorious
banner, and wheel) symbolizing a group of five senses, and dash ceremonial scarves
(khadag, Tib. bkra shis kha btags) of the five colors and folded three times.
32. The mantra “om · āh· hūm· ” is recited three times. Thereafter, the following man-
tra is recited: om
· vajra amr· ta kun· d·ali hana hana hum · phat·. Om · svabhāva śuddha sarva
dharma svabhāva śuddho ‘ham · .
33. The Eighth Jebtsundamba Khutukhtu’s preference of the Perfection of
Wisdom sūtras over the Suvarn· aprabhāsottama is, perhaps, due to the fact that the
Suvarn· aprabhāsottama never gained the same degree of popularity among Tibetans as
it did among the Mongols. According to the report of the members of the Foundation
for the Preservation of the Mahāyāna Tradition in Ulaanbaatar, given to me in the sum-
mer of 2006, when the Tibetan Buddhist missionary Lama Zopa Rinpoche came to
Mongolia for the first time, he expressed his surprise that Tibetans have not resorted
to the Suvarn· aprabhāsottama at the times of their need and worshipped it as the
Mongols had done for centuries. He immediately ordered 2,000 copies of the text and
distributed it to his centers in various parts of the world. Afterward, he wrote a short
essay entitled “Benefits of the Sūtra of Golden Light,” which was published on the
foundation’s website www.fpmt.org/Teachers/Zopa/advice/goldenlight_benefits.asp.
He also had the sūtra translated into English for his Western students. For a complete
translation of the epistle of the Eighth Jebtsundamba Khutukhtu see Alice Sárközi,
Political Prophecies in Mongolia in the 17th–20th Centuries (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz,
1992), 127–32.
34. Two versions of Aparamitāyurjñāna appear only in the fifteenth volume of the
tantra section of the Mongolian Bka’ ‘gyur, and its third version appears in the twenty-
third tantra section of the Bka’ ‘gyur. Similarly, the Suvarn· aprabhāsottama Sūtra appears
only in the fourteenth tantra section of the Bka’ ‘gyur.
35. Khürelbaatar, Sudar Shastiryn Bilig, 2002, 376.
36. This has been reported to me by Erdenebaatar Erdene-Ochir who has wit-
nessed this event on more than one occasion while visiting his relatives in Zavkhan
aimag.
37. The edition and analysis of the text is given by Charles R. Bawden in his article
“The Supernatural Element in Sickness and Death According to Mongol Tradition,” in
Confronting the Supernatural: Mongolian Traditional Ways and Means (Wiesbaden:
224 tibetan ritual

Harrassowitz Verlag, 1994), 41–84. In that article, Bawden does not give the title of the
text and designates it merely as “Text of Louvain 37.”
38. Bawden, Confronting the Supernatural, 59.
39. See Alice Sárközi’s edition and translation of the “Bogda bančin erdeni dalai blam-
a-yin gegen bogda činggis qagan-narun čarlig-un bičig” in her Political Prophecies, 71.
40. Sárközi, “Bogda gegen-ü lündüg,” in Political Prophecies, 118–27.
41. This text was edited and analyzed by Charles R. Bawden in “On the Practice of
Scapulimancy among the Mongols,” in Bawden, Confronting the Supernatural, 111–42.
42. Scapulimancy is an ancient Mongolian method of prognostication by reading
the cracks, colors, and breaks in bones that are produced by burning the bones in fire.
A shoulder blade of a sheep has been the most commonly used bone in this type of
divination.
43. Bawden, Confronting the Supernatural, 124–25, 136.
10
The Ritual Veneration
of Mongolia’s Mountains
jared r. lindahl

Despite the obvious influence of Tibetan Buddhism upon the religious

landscape of Mongolia, Mongolian Buddhism is not simply Tibetan
Buddhism in Mongolia, just as Tibetan Buddhism is not simply Indian
Buddhism in Tibet. Previous scholarship on the ritual manuals that
engage Mongolia’s local deities has tended to consider these rituals
as instances of the corruption of Buddhism by “Shamanism.”1 Rather
than argue that the introduction of Buddhism to Mongolia resulted in
an unfortunate hybrid tradition of ritual practice, I suggest that ritual
was an oblique strategy that Buddhists intentionally used “in order to
emplace themselves within a local society”2—in the process, convert-
ing indigenous practices into Buddhist practices. Although ritual theo-
rists unanimously acknowledge that place is a significant component to
the understanding of ritual, there is a difference of opinion regarding
exactly how significant place is. Jonathan Z. Smith argues that nothing
is inherently sacred or profane; rather, things and actions are sacred
only relationally—especially in relation to place.3 Ronald Grimes, on
the other hand, resists affording a privileged position to place, and
instead situates place among other constituent elements such as time,
actions, agents, and objects.4 While I agree with Grimes that in general
there is no ground for privileging place as the primary key to under-
standing ritual, I find unwarranted his claim that “sacrality becomes
evident in how people act,” which privileges action in much the same
way that Smith privileges place.5 Charting a middle way between these
two theorists, I maintain that although we should not assume, in an a
226 tibetan ritual

priori fashion, that place will be the primary variable of analysis for understand-
ing ritual, nevertheless, when studying the ritual veneration of the features of
Mongolia’s landscape, place is of utmost importance. Such sites are deemed
sacred by virtue of the presence of the deities that are considered to be either
identical with, or inhabitants of the features of the landscape.6 With respect to
the tradition of mountain veneration rituals in Mongolia, the relevance of place
logically precedes that of action because one must adhere to certain modes of
ritual protocol at sacred places, and in the presence of the deities who inhabit
them. This is not to say, however, that place is the only important feature of
these rituals. Grimes is right to direct our attention to other facets of ritual, such
as action, agents, time, and objects, and in this chapter I will demonstrate how
examining these other facets of ritual processes help us understand particular
relationships to place, and in particular to mountains and mountain deities.
Through a careful study of the genre of incense-offering rituals, sang (Tib.
bsang/s mchod; Mong. sang), I argue that such ceremonies reinforce, and even
reenact the historical conversion of the Mongols to Buddhism. Incense-offering
rituals address many of the same pragmatic concerns that non-Buddhist ritual
specialists addressed in pre-Buddhist Mongolia, such as petitions for the health
of animals and humans, for good weather, for the protection of agriculture,
and for the accumulation of wealth. Nevertheless, these rituals are decidedly
Buddhist, and the most important mountains of Mongolia have highly devel-
oped ritual traditions that reveal significant influence from tantric sādhanas.
The introduction of tantric ritual elements, in particular the tantric pantheon
of deities, establishes a uniquely Buddhist relationship between ritual special-
ists and the local mountain deities. In particular, the ritual conversion of the
local mountain deity to Buddhism serves as a reminder of both the historical
conversion of the Mongols to Buddhism and the dominance of Buddhism over
indigenous religious beliefs and practices.

Previous Scholarship on Mongolian Ritual Manuals

In the sixteenth century, imperial edicts issued by Altan Khan proclaimed Bud-
dhism to be the national religion of Mongolia and outlawed prior forms of
ritual practice.7 This resulted in a period of great social and religious transfor-
mation. A good deal of scholarship on this topic depicts the transformation of
Mongolia as beginning with the introduction of Buddhism, followed by the
subsequent persecution of “Shamanism,”8 and concluding with a syncretism
in which either Buddhism was “corrupted” by “shamanic elements” or “Sha-
manism” was merely given a “Buddhist veneer.”9 For example, in her introduc-
tion to a ritual manual entitled “Cutting Off the Lasso,” Alice Sárközi writes:
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 227

The text now under consideration, though it is a hand-book of a sha-

man ritual to exorcise the evil spirits, has an overall touch of Lamaism,
containing a number of Lamaist expressions and motives. So this short
text in itself represents the complicated situation of Mongolian spiri-
tual life, ruled by the Yellow Faith, that was full of shamanist practices
deeply rooted in the everyday life of the people. The booklet belongs
to the period, when pre-Buddhist cults and cult-figures were adapted
to the new faith, older shamanist deities were transferred into the
new pantheon, and old practices were dressed in the guise of Lamaist
rituals.10

The ritual manual commences by prescribing the recitation of Buddhist texts if

one is plagued by malevolent spirits.11 Then, after outlining the preparation of
a dough effigy as ransom to the malevolent spirits, the remainder of the ritual
involves a visualization in which the ritual specialist identifies with the tantric
deity Heruka in order to banish evil hindrances. The ritual concludes with the
recitation of Sanskrit mantras. Throughout the ritual manual, there is no evi-
dence that this is anything but a Buddhist text. Sárközi also notes that there is
a Tibetan edition of the text, all of which would indicate that this text is neither
“a text of popular religious belief ” nor a “shaman text”;12 rather, it falls squarely
within the purview of tantric Buddhism, which, contrary to her expectation,
does in fact perform rituals to exorcise malevolent spirits.13
However, one of Alice Sárközi’s translations, “Book of Filling Up the Hole,”
does seem to support her view that such ritual manuals are merely “Shaman-
ist practices” and “folk beliefs . . . in the disguise of Lamaism.”14 She describes
the text in question as a rite of exorcism, as the ritual functions to banish evil
spirits from and confer blessing upon the patron. The only elements of the
ritual manual that bear any resemblance to other Buddhist rites are the use of
a few mantras, such as oṃ āḥ huṃ, the mention of a few ecclesiastical-sounding
names, and an overt reference to the fact that “this performance is not a perfor-
mance. It was taught by Buddha Śākyamuni.”15 Sárközi could be correct that “to
mention their names certainly helped to camouflage this clearly shamanist text
in Lamaism and, therefore, make it more acceptable by those who follow the
Yellow Faith.”16 However, it is very difficult to determine if this practice origi-
nated with non-Buddhist ritual specialists and was then camouflaged as a Bud-
dhist ritual so as to reassert indigenous ritual practices, or if it was composed
by Buddhist ritual specialists in order to appropriate a non-Buddhist ritual and
transform it into a practice that was deemed sufficiently Buddhist. In either
case, it is clear that this practice is probably best characterized as being unique
to Mongolian Buddhism. Previous scholarship, in tending to reduce everything
to either “Shamanism,” “Lamaism,” or some syncretistic hybrid of the two,
228 tibetan ritual

has failed to acknowledge that Buddhism in Mongolia may be different from

Buddhism in Tibet precisely because of the transformations that took place
during the widespread and forced introduction of Buddhism in the sixteenth
century. That a ritual manual requests seemingly “mundane” things such as
good weather, healthy animals, and wealth, and seemingly “supernatural”
things such as the banishment of various classes of malevolent beings, does
not imply that it is an assimilation of “Shamanic” or “folk religious” elements
into a Buddhist ritual practice, nor does it imply that this is essentially a “Sha-
manic” text that is given a Buddhist veneer and structure so that the practice
may survive. Rather, it is an indication of the breadth of Buddhist praxis and an
expression of the local concerns that Buddhists had to address if their tradition
was to thrive among the people of Mongolia.
Since the indigenous religious traditions of Mongolia were not overtly doctri-
nal, the emerging Buddhist traditions could not be localized solely through intel-
lectual discourse; rather, Buddhism also had to be made appealing at the level of
ritual practice. Because of the nature of the indigenous habitus—a deeply engrained
system of practice that is “contrary to intellectualist idealism”—Buddhist mission-
aries focused on replacing the material culture associated with the practices of
ritual specialists.17 When two edicts, one issued in 1558 and the second in 1577,
outlawed “Shamanism and other unorthodox creeds,” Buddhist lamas confiscated
and burned the paraphernalia of the ritual specialists: the clothing, drums, and in
particular the shamans’ ongod—ritual effigies that are inhabited by deities called
ongon.18 “Because of the conception of these Ongghot being inspirited by the magi-
cal forces of Shamanism, the first action of Lamaism was everywhere an iconoclas-
tic purge.”19 The destruction of the ongod did not eliminate the indigenous habitus;
rather, it left a void in the praxis of both the ritual specialists and their communi-
ties. The lamas could not simply destroy the ongod, for the local deities had to be
petitioned or the crops would not grow, sickness would ravage the land, and the
ancestral spirits would return to haunt the living. Because these considerations
were part of the habitus of the Mongolian people, Buddhist lamas had to replace the
ongod with images of their own deities. Thus, “statuettes of lamaist deities, mostly
of fierce appearance, were substituted for the housegods and treated by the Mon-
gols in the same way as the Ongghot had been formerly treated.”20
In addition to transforming Mongolian material culture by introducing Bud-
dhist statues and associated ritual implements, lamas also disseminated tantric
practices among the Mongolian populous during this initial purge of non-Bud-
dhist ritual practice. One important source for this controversial activity comes
to us through the biography of the missionary lama Neyichi Toyin (1577–1653).21
He distributed various practices pertaining to the tantric deity Yamāntaka with-
out requiring the study of Buddhist scriptures or the most fundamental ritual
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 229

initiations. Despite his eventual condemnation and banishment by orthodox

Buddhists, he succeeded in converting a large number of people to Buddhism.
In order to further eliminate the need for indigenous ritual specialists, the Mon-
gol nobility offered material rewards to those who learned tantric ritual prac-
tices. By teaching them the recitation of Buddhist spells (dhāraṇī ), divination,
mudrās, and methods of exorcism and healing, Buddhist missionaries such as
Neyichi Toyin encouraged lay people to act in the capacity of a ritual specialist
themselves. To those accustomed to consulting a variety of indigenous ritual
specialists to mediate their relationship with the local deities, tantra must have
seemed particularly appealing, as Neyichi Toyin’s teachings suggested that
tantric practices offered an unmediated interaction with the deity.22
Scholars have also investigated the role of the ritual cairn (Mong. ovoo or
oboo; Tib. la rdzas) (Figure 10.1) in the Buddhist appropriation of place; however,
the origin of the Buddhist cult of the ovoo in Mongolia has yet to be conclu-
sively established.23 Although it is clear that Buddhists did engage in a thorough
elimination of the ongod, as described earlier, there is no evidence that there
was any attempt, let alone a failed attempt, to actually eradicate the cult of the
ovoo. In his study of the ovoo-construction and ovoo-veneration rituals composed
by Mergen Diyanchi (1717–66), Charles Bawden demonstrates how Mergen
Diyanchi consciously absorbed the cult of the ovoo within the fold of acceptable

figure 10.1. An ovoo for the local deity of the mountain, Arkhangai Province,
Mongolia. Photo: J. Lindahl (2004).
230 tibetan ritual

Buddhist praxis. He concludes that “the intention of Mergen Diyanchi Lama

was perhaps not so much . . . to suppress shamanistic elements of worship by
incorporating them, suitably altered, into Buddhist ritual, as to strengthen the
position of Buddhism in Mongolia by associating indigenous cult-elements
with similar phenomena already established in Tibetan lamaism.”24 Insofar as
Mergen Diyanchi attempted to establish specifically Buddhist ritual practices
for the veneration of local deities at the already existing ovoo, his approach to the
appropriation of place differs significantly from Neyichi Toyin, who confiscated
all remnants of pre-Buddhist ritual practice and replaced them with Buddhist
paraphernalia. Christopher Atwood also points out how Mergen Diyanchi saw
the role of the Buddhist missionary in Mongolia as analogous to Padmasamb-
hava’s subjugation of the local deities of Tibet—that is, local deities are best con-
trolled by having them swear an oath to protect the Dharma, not by destroying
the ritual effigies and other implements associated with their worship.25

Common Ritual Practices Performed at the Ovoo

The ovoo is perhaps the most significant feature of Mongolia’s sacred geography.
These piles of rocks are ubiquitous throughout the countryside; they are found
on nearly every mountain peak and mountain pass, on the shores of lakes and riv-
ers, in the center of valleys, and in forests. They are often embellished by a birch
branch flagstaff that is heavily bedecked with blue and white ceremonial scarves
(Tib. kha btags; Mong. khadag) (Figure 10.2). In forested areas, an ovoo may be
completely enclosed by birch branches. Since the ovoo is an altar and a site of cult
practices for both laity and ritual specialists, one finds a multitude of assorted
offerings scattered among its rocky base. In a brief typology of ovoos, Ágnes Bir-
talan proposes that the ovoo serves two major roles: a marker of territory and a
ritual altar.26 It is primarily the latter role, in connection with the cult of ancestors,
local deities, and burial practices, that will be the focus of this chapter.
The ovoo serves as a point of contact between ritual specialists and various
classes of deities who inhabit the nearby landscape. In the Mongolian language,
the words ovoo (ritual cairn) and uul (mountain) refer not only to the physical
object, but also to the deities that inhabit those places, and Mongolian authors
typically do not distinguish between the physical object and the local deity.
An entire area of the landscape, and to some extent the entirety of the natural
world, is viewed in this manner. For instance, in an introduction to ovoo rituals,
Khatgin Sukhbaatar explains how “at the ovoo [that is the site] of the offering,
the queens of the mountain, the guardian, and the protector who enriches the
treasury are the [surrounding] peaks, hills and passes.”27 This indicates that
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 231

the mountain upon which the ovoo is located is identified with the principal
local deity, usually the “master of the area” (Tib. sa bdag and gzhi bdag; Mong.
savdag, gazaryn ezen). It also tells us that the area surrounding the central peak
is inhabited by other local spirits, namely “the entourage” (Tib. ‘khor; Mong.
nökhörlöl) of queens and guardians surrounding the master of the area. Insofar
as it is the abode of local deities, the ovoo demarcates a sacred region within
which certain social behaviors are deemed taboo and a specific ritual protocol
must be followed. While near its abode (Tib. gnas; Mong. oron), one must take
care not to offend the local deity either through actions that damage and pollute
the environment, or through actions that are considered socially offensive. One
contemporary Mongolian author explains this as follows:

Those who went to the ritual offering at any mountain, ovoo, or water
did not kill any wild animals, drink any liquor, harbor any bad inten-
tions, or upset any animals or people. Rather they devoted them-
selves to saying numerous recitations of the mani and megdzem28
prayers . . . Having to stop and spend the night at the ritual site of the
mountain and ovoo because you went there without a purpose, say-
ing words that have bad causal connections,29 “checking the horse”30
wherever you please, chewing gum, going without a sash or naked,
Oṃ vajrapāni hūṃ phat! These are seen as sinful [actions]!31

Khatgin Sukhbaatar also enumerates the possible transgressions of ritual pro-

tocol that offend the local deity:

At the time of the ovoo offering, it is not proper to drink too much
vodka and other alcoholic drinks, to quarrel, fight or brawl, to leave
your trash and so forth, because doing these things enrages the lords
of the earth and water, and the master of the area (gazaryn ezen). It
is better that each person very carefully controls his or her actions of
body, speech, and mind . . . After the ovoo offering ritual, and in gen-
eral, we have the custom of renouncing all harmful actions towards
nature, such as disturbing the stones, fishing, hunting wild animals,
and tearing the grass in the area surrounding the particular mountains
and ovoos to which we make offerings . . . However, nowadays [people]
place their rubbish, such as beer and liquor bottles and cans, crutches,
staffs, and spare parts for their horse32 [on the ovoo]. Because this is
not an offering and is a bad deed, and because stopping this is a virtue,
each person should strive to stop [such offerings].33

These contemporary Mongolian sources serve as general introductions to the

mythology of Mongolia’s sacred sites and instruct the reader on proper (and
232 tibetan ritual

figure 10.2. An ovoo on a mountain pass along the border of Dzavkhan

and Arkhangai Provinces. Photo: J. Lindahl (2004).

improper) behaviors in the proximity of the ovoo and local deity. The ritual pro-
tocol can be divided into two categories: actions directed toward other humans,
and actions directed toward the environment. One must control one’s actions
of body, speech, and mind, in particular by avoiding drinking and slander-
ous speech, and by not carelessly pronouncing the name of the mountain and
mountain deity. In most instances, mountains are respectfully referred to as
khairkhan (beloved). Furthermore, one must refrain from damaging the natu-
ral environment by disturbing that which is already there, or leaving something
that does not belong. In addition to these prohibitions, Sukhbaatar also sum-
marizes the most common and fundamental offerings made at the ovoo: the
offering of food, stones, and ceremonial scarves.

In the morning and in the evening, you should make an offering in

which you give the best part of your tea, milk, yogurt, and airag34 to
your own mountain and ovoo. Having come to the ovoo, it is also per-
mitted to make an offering in which you say “Let me give to you the
height of all the ovoos; bestow upon me the greatness of all the people.
oṃ āḥ hūṃ.” [Because] the majesty of an ovoo is [known] only through
its height and its greatness, gather three stones from the lower and
middle slopes of the mountain and offer your stones while circumam-
bulating its ovoo three times . . . If there are no stones around that area,
place a stone from the skirt35 of the ovoo higher up. Having made [the
ovoo] higher, people offer [hairs from] the horse’s mane and tail, and
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 233

ceremonial scarves. They come with their wind-horse flags and then
fly their flags in the wind to revive [their luck force].36

Although these injunctions have elements that are noticeably Buddhist,

similar ritual protocol governs the behavior at an ovoo in circumstances that
are not overtly Buddhist.

Mongolian Conceptions of Deities of the Landscape

Perhaps the major difference between the Buddhist and non-Buddhist ritual
practices at ovoos is the conception of the deity or deities involved. While space
does not permit a thorough explanation of the pantheon and related ritual prac-
tices of pre-Buddhist Mongolia, there are a few concepts that are crucial by
way of preamble. One of the most thorough accounts of indigenous Mongo-
lian cosmology and ritual practice is Caroline Humphrey’s ethnography of the
Daur Mongols of Inner Mongolia. Unlike most scholarship on the indigenous
traditions of Central and North Asia, Humphrey is unsettled by the use of the
term “Shamanism” to categorically refer to the beliefs and practices of a pre-
Buddhist culture, or a culture largely uninfluenced by Buddhism.

The problem, with regard to ‘shamanism,’ was that a shaman’s presence

was quite unnecessary for the worship of the sky [tenger]. There were
many other rituals too, sacrifices to mountain spirits at the oboo for exam-
ple, where other ritual practitioners were dominant and shamans were
even excluded . . . Theirs was never the only response to Daurs’ views of
existence, and shamans were never the masters of all religious life.37

Lest one think that these statements pertain only to the Daur Mongols,
Humphrey forthrightly states that “there is no society in North Asia which has
only the classic spirit-managing shaman as a religious specialist.”38 Among
the Daur Mongols of Inner Mongolia, she finds the following ritual special-
ists: bagchi (ritualist, or elder), barishi (bone-setter), bariyachi (midwife), kianchi
(sorcerer), otoshi (curer), and yagdan (shaman). These various ritual specialists
had their own, often mutually exclusive, domain of practice, and we should not
assume the existence of an overarching coherent system of belief or practice, as
suggested by the use of the term “Shamanism.”
Although these were not the only modes of ritual practice in pre-Buddhist
Mongolia, Humphrey sets up an insightful comparison between a “chiefly” mode
and a “shamanic” mode of ritual interaction with local deities.39 The clan chiefs
or elder ritual specialists were necessarily male and were nominated through
234 tibetan ritual

patrilineal descent. The elders were masters of prayers and rituals directed toward
the local deities. It was primarily the elders who propitiated the masters (Mong.
ezen) of a particular place. Some of the other ritual specialists mentioned ear-
lier were responsible for interacting with more volatile deities such as fox spirits
and demons that afflicted humans with various illnesses. Women were usually
excluded from the chiefly forms of ritual practice at the ovoo.40
By contrast, shamans could be either male or female and became shamans
through a direct encounter with the spirits of their predecessor apotheosized as
an ongon.41 When shamans died, they were given two burials; during the second,
their soul went through a metamorphosis into a local master, or ezen.42 The ezen
then became the ongon of the shaman of the following generation. In contrast
to the elders, who would ritually petition the local deities, but never directly
encounter them, shamans were distinguished from other ritual specialists due
to their ability to have unmediated encounters with, and have control over both
their tutelary deity and the local deities. Because they acted as intermediaries
in this way, their conception of the local deities was more specific and personal
than that of the elders. “The shaman thus cumulates varied external powers,
while the chief, in his ritual role, and the lama unify, regulate, and rank them.”43
Humphrey also notes that the unique status of shamans resulted in the mutual
exclusivity of the chiefly and shamanic paradigms for ritual practice: “Shamans
were also excluded [from the ovoo ritual] in many places; though members of the
lineage, they were destabilizing pretenders to a different and more direct access
to the spirits.”44 I wonder if they were excluded because the local deity wor-
shipped was in some sense the tutelary deity of the shamans themselves. For
why would the shamans need to propitiate their own deity, with whom they have
already demonstrated an unmediated relationship in their own ritual practices?
This view is supported by some of Humphrey’s later observations in which she
writes that “the spirit of the Baragkhan oboo was a shaman, Solbon Khashkhi
Noyon, who ‘lives’ on the mountain with a large household, cattle, and two ser-
vants, an Evenk and a one-eyed Russian.”45 Thus, although the elders and the
shamans had different roles and different relationships with the local deities in
terms of ritual practice, there is evidence to support the idea that the local deities
were, in some instances at least, the transmogrified souls of deceased shamans,
who were also the tutelary deities of contemporary shamans. These ezen were
not so much “spirits of the tree, rock, or hill, but souls-turned-spirits located in
them.”46 From this, we can understand that ritual practices at the ovoo and other
sites in the landscape may be less about the features of the landscape and more
“about a real human event.”47 It is important to bear this in mind as we begin
to explore the ritual relationship to these local deities as presented in Buddhist
ritual manuals for the veneration of mountains in Mongolia.
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 235

The Buddhist pantheon of deities is even more vast and complicated than
the pantheon of the shamans, so the following presentation of local deities is nec-
essarily incomplete. In Buddhist ritual manuals for the veneration of mountains,
there are some deities that are found frequently, and others that make occasional
appearances. Regarding the sacred geography of Tibet, Samten Karmay distin-
guishes between mountains that are pre-Buddhist sites for the cult of local deities
(yul lha) and mountains that are associated with specifically Buddhist activity, the
neri (gnas ri).48 The yul lha cults follow the “chiefly” mode of ritual practice inso-
far as the rituals are performed by clan elders, not Buddhist monks. The deities
petitioned in yul lha rituals include the master of the area (gzhi bdag), the master
of the earth (sa bdag), the local deity (yul lha), the war-god (dgra lha), and the nāga
(klu). Similar to the chiefly mode of ritual practice in Mongolia, which venerated
ancestral deities as local masters, Karmay notes that the early Tibetan kings pro-
pitiated nine mountain deities that were regarded as the “soul of the body” (sku
bla) of the relatives of the first Tibetan king.49 There is an interesting parallel in
the indigenous Tibetan conception of the soul (bla) with the metamorphosis of
the soul of the Mongolian shaman into a local master deity.

The bla may dwell, temporarily at least, in various places outside the
body without risking any danger. Hence the expression bla gnas ‘dwell-
ing of the soul,’ a place where the bla takes up residence. It can be a
rock or a boulder (bla rdo), a tree (bla shing), a lake (bla mtsho), or a
mountain (bla ri). These places are often considered as sacred.50

Neri sites, on the other hand, are deemed significant due to the previous or
continuing presence of Buddhist yogis, relics, and treasures (gter ma). These
sites are the object of pilgrimage and the locus of explicitly Buddhist ritual
activity. While the same local deities associated with the yul lha cults can be
invoked during rituals at a neri, neri sites are unique in often being conceived
of as the maṇḍala of translocal tantric deities, which hierarchically subsumes
local deities into a larger, Buddhist pantheon. Sites of yul lha cult practice and
neri sites are not mutually exclusive insofar as one mountain can be the site for
both modes of ritual practice. Toni Huber notes that:

The older mountain gods and goddesses were incorporated into the
expanding pantheons on two, frequently overlapping, levels: into
higher Tantric initiatory categories as chosen meditational deities or as
members of their retinues; and into service roles as “defenders of reli-
gion” or their local minions . . . In some cases this assimilation process
came to designate [gnas ri] as sites for Tantric practice, for worship of
the defenders of religion, and for their local cults simultaneously.51
236 tibetan ritual

While more research needs to be done to determine which mountains in Mon-

golia might be considered neri, it is already clear that there are yul lha sites of
various degrees of significance, many of which are the object of veneration by
Buddhist ritual specialists.
In the genre of incense-offering rituals found in Mongolia, there are gen-
eral ritual manuals that are not site-specific, and others that are particular
to a mountain, lake, river, or spring. If the manual used is not site-specific,
the ritual specialist is to insert the name of the local mountain deity at the
appropriate time during the ritual. Thus, the same ritual can be performed
at numerous mountains.52 On the other hand, there are mountains of much
greater importance, such as Bogd Khan Mountain, Khentii Khan Mountain,
and Otgontenger Mountain, that do have site-specific ritual manuals. These
manuals incorporate the iconography and narratives associated with the local
mountain deity into the ritual practice. The complexity of the ritual is correlated
to the significance of the mountain deity, such that ritual specialists engage the
most clearly defined and most important mountain deities with ritual practices
that are similar to the level of complexity of tantric sādhanas. In the case of
Otgontenger Mountain, the mountain deity is Vajrapāṇi, a translocal tantric
deity and the national deity of Mongolia. The mountains that are considered
the abodes of translocal deities and that are the sites of tantric ritual practices
are more likely to be the sites of other practices associated with neri, such as
pilgrimage and hermitage traditions.
Whether the local deity is a nameless master of the area or a defined tantric
deity, the presence of that deity is manifest in the special natural features of the
site, especially its rock formations, flora, and fauna.

Let me clarify what is actually so special about the juniper incense of

Otgontenger Mountain. First, Otgontenger Mountain is the home of
Vajrapāṇi. In regard to that, it is considered to be a good omen that
the blessing of Vajrapāṇi has been infused into the juniper incense of
that mountain. Because of this, it is superior to the juniper incense of
other places . . . There is a tradition in which only the elderly are per-
mitted to gather juniper incense from designated places on this moun-
tain to the extent that they need it. [When so doing they] recite great
Buddhist dhāraṇī, they bend at the knee, offer prayers to their tenger,53
and express their wishes.54

Contemporary Mongolian sources also indicate that the local deity may be
more or less present during certain times, and this too determines the degree
of ritual protocol required:
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 237

Our ancestors . . . made offerings on the 3rd, 8th, and 15th days of the
new half of each month, the particular auspicious days of each month,
and especially at the best hour of the day in which the nāga55 comes.
The majority of mountains and ovoos [have their own] incense offering
[sang] to be recited, and not only that, their own traditions established
[particular] days for making offerings, taking into account the charac-
teristics of the banner area [in which they are located] . . . [Our ances-
tors] have the custom of publicly prohibiting [actions such as] making
a fuss, quarrelling, hunting wild animals, or digging and disturbing
the ground in the area [surrounding the mountains and ovoos] during
the three, seven, nine, or thirteen days following the very day that the
offerings to any mountains and ovoos were made, taking into account
the sequence of the arrival of the nāga.56

After one makes an offering to the nāga, there is a period of three, seven, nine,
or thirteen days during which the nāga may arrive to receive the offerings. It is
during this time that the area is particularly sacred, due to the presence, even
potentially, of the nāga, and thus the area must be kept in particularly good
order so as not to offend the nāga. Establishing a relationship between natural
resources and the local deity in these ways has provided the Mongols with a
unique system of environmental protection for many centuries. Bogd Khan
Mountain, for instance, is the world’s oldest continuously officially protected
area, beginning with the decree of the Manchu emperor in 1778.57

The Appropriation of Place via Mountain-Veneration Rituals

As Toni Huber has mentioned (see the passage cited earlier), yul lha cult sites
were often subsumed into the mode of ritual practice associated with neri sites,
with the local deities becoming incorporated into the limitless pantheon of
Buddhism. Caroline Humphrey also indicates some of the paradigm shifts in
discourse and practice that took place as the Mongolian nobility embraced Bud-
dhism, particularly from the sixteenth through the nineteenth centuries. She
argues that during this time “Buddhism allied itself with the chiefly sacred
geography, and lamas became in effect priests for political leaders” such that
“the effect of the centralized Buddhist system was to reduce imaginative variety
and standardize the mountain rituals.”58 A few major changes were necessary
if the Buddhists were to perform rituals at the ovoos. First, all animal sacrifices
were prohibited.59 Second, a new ritual practice was introduced in Tibetan, the
dominant liturgical language of Mongolia.
238 tibetan ritual

Buddhists were not content simply to co-opt the chiefly paradigm for rit-
ual practice; their appropriation of place was so thorough that the competing
ritual paradigm, that of the shamans, also came to be usurped. In general, the
conversion begins when “a Buddhist master makes the native spirit take an
oath by displaying a vajra in order to make them [sic] protect Buddhist inter-
ests; and these spirits are then raised to the status of chos skyong (dharmapāla)
and may even be admitted into a maṇḍala.”60 An incense-offering ritual61 for
Otgontenger Mountain is unique in that it presents Otgontenger as the center
of a maṇḍala to which the local deities from other mountains in Mongolia are
summoned.

O great lord of victorious power, master of secrets,62 come to this place!

At the center of the maṇḍala of the vast expanse of the northern regions
of the earth there is a mountain that is completely surrounded by a ret-
inue of many millions. From this Mount Sumeru, which is endowed
with auspiciousness and ten virtuous signs, come here to Otgontenger
sacred mountain and guard this abode (gnas)! May the rain of posses-
sions, food, wealth, and all desirables fall! May the bestower of the
auspicious glory of this mountain abode and his entourage come to
the snowy mountain renowned as Little Bogd,63 which is endowed
with power and dominion over all the earth. O great sorcerer, obey
your great local deity. Grant beautiful longevity to the life of the moun-
tains Myangan Sumbar, Bayandzurkh, Khukhu Onger, and so forth.
O masters of the area (gzhi bdag) of a thousand mountains, come to
this mountain abode! O great nāgas of rivers of lakes such as Badar
Khongag, Bayanbolag mountain, Tsagaan Khokh Khar lake, Buyant
river, and the Shiri stone, come to this mountain abode! O masters
of the earth (sa bdag) from the direction of the steppe in places such
as Tsagaan Tokhoi, Tasin Suudal, Botog Balgatai, Chandmani Urt
Yombuu, and Tsagaan Bulan, come to this mountain abode! And in
addition, O masters of the countryside and pasture lands, who lurk
its soil, waters, trees, rocks, valleys, lakes, ponds, alpine meadows,
springs, rock outcroppings, crossroads, mountains, and plains, come
to this abode!64

The invocation commences with the summoning of Vajrapāṇi, the tutelary

deity for the ritual and the local deity of Otgontenger Mountain. After the invo-
cation, which summons the local zhidag (gzhi bdag), sadag (sa bdag), and nāgas
to the center of the maṇḍala, the ritual specialist offers incense to his lama,
tutelary deity, and the various higher classes of deities, eventually reaching the
lower local deities of the landscape previously summoned.
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 239

Through our virtuous karma and aspirations, we offer purifying

incense to the local deities, nāgas, masters of the area, and elemen-
tal spirits together with their retinue. We offer purifying incense to
Otgontenger, the great deity who holds up our former lives along with
this [present] life. In a word, we offer purifying incense to all those
who are transformed into elemental spirits by dwelling in the lands
which we claim as our own, in abandoned lands (‘tsher sa) and estates,
in landscapes with trees and landscapes with rocks, and in the moun-
tains, rivers, valleys, and plains.65

This last sentence is particularly interesting in that it seems to acknowledge the

metamorphosis of an ancestral spirit into a local deity of the landscape. While
Buddhist rituals may not be overtly converting the souls of shamans to Bud-
dhism, for centuries Mongols considered the local masters to be a metamor-
phosis of the shaman’s soul. Given the close etymological connection between
the Tibetan zhidag, its Mongolian equivalent gazaryn ezen, and the ezen that is
the transmogrified soul of a shaman, these conceptions of the local deity must
have, at times, overlapped.66 It is certainly possible that integrating conversion
narratives into the ritual practices was intended to reinforce and reenact the
historical conversion of the Mongols to Buddhism by attempting to appropriate
not only the chiefly ovoo-based ritual practices, but also the very conception of
the local deities themselves. In Buddhist ritual manuals, these deities are visu-
alized, invoked, presented with incense, and then reminded of their vows to
protect the Dharma and refrain from harmful actions directed toward humans
or animals. A ritual manual for the veneration of The White Old Man concisely
presents these stages in a manner typical of other incense-offering rituals.67

From the palace of the innate great bliss [emanates] the great power
of heaven and earth, the sovereign master of the earth (sa bdag): the
[White] Old Man. [The White Old Man has] white eyebrows, a white
moustache, and white hair. His complexion is also white, and he has
one face and two arms. In his right hand, [which has the] quality of a
human being, he manipulates a rosary. In his left hand, he brandishes
a dragon-head staff, and holds medicinal fruit from a mountain peak
(ri rtse mo). There are twenty-four lands, waters, enclosures (rwa) and
towns in which the great sovereign master of the earth dwells and lives
encircled by his queen, sons, and a group of ministers. He promises
to protect the Lord of the Sages,68 with his ancient and stable eye, the
teachings, and the adherents to the teachings. By virtue of the power of
these commitments (dam tshig), we implore you to come to this abode
(gnas) . . . We offer incense to the sovereign master of the earth and the
240 tibetan ritual

retinue of his ministers, his queen, and his sons. We offer incense
to the master of the earth and his retinue who dwell in the earth. We
offer incense to the retinue of water deities who dwell in the water.
We offer incense to the rock deities who dwell in the rocks. We offer
incense to the tree deities who dwell in the trees. In brief, we offer
incense to the deities, nāgas and asuras and elemental spirits such as
the nāgas, the kṣetrapālas (zhing skyong), and the guardians of the four
directions. Please accept this genuine and extensive incense offering
ritual! May [you all] be contented and delighted, [endowed] with great
bliss! We, the lama and disciples, benefactors and recipients, and our
audience, [implore you to] pacify [our] sickness, obstacles, and nega-
tive influences. [Grant us] longevity and merit, extensive wealth and
glory, and [enable us] to conqueror the three realms. Annihilate [our]
enemies and hindrances [who cause us] harm and injury. In particu-
lar, may we always abide in this land with a kind and compassionate
disposition in the same way as [our] parents, free from all dangers
such as hail, drought, and famine of grain, quarreling and pain, wars
and epidemics, enemies and thieves. In the meantime, also [grant
us] long life without sickness. [Grant us] relief from quarreling, from
being pursued by wolves, from sickness to herds or humans. Be an
ally and effortlessly and spontaneously accomplish all our wishes
without exception. Wherever we are, whether at home or abroad, may
the rains be timely and may the herds and crops always prosper. Pacify
others’ curses, defamations, and disputes and establish enlightened
activity . . . O great sovereign master of the earth, like [the attitude of] an
affectionate mother towards [her] fair children, you and your retinue
[should] always be an ally to those of us who are practitioners and to
our disciples—not wandering [from us] day or night. Defend and pro-
tect the [Buddhist] teachings in general, and the precious teachings of
Tsongkhapa in particular.69

Like the ritual manuals for mountain deities that are Dharma protectors of
the highest rank or for tantric deities such as Vajrapāṇi, this text also com-
mences with visualization. However, in comparison with other, site-specific
mountain veneration rituals, the visualization for the White Old Man is not
as detailed, and more rapidly segues into an extensive enumeration of the dei-
ties of the landscape. The incense-offering rituals for Bogd Khan Mountain,
Choiriin Bogd Mountain, and Khentii Khan Mountain present a more exten-
sive visualization ritual of their protector deities. The ritual manual for Bogd
Khan Mountain commences by instructing the ritual specialist to meditate on
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 241

his personal tutelary deity before visualizing the protector deity of the moun-
tain, Dung-kyong Karpo (Dung skyong dkar po). Having dissolved into empti-
ness, he begins to visualize the phonemes oṃ, aḥ, and hūṃ, from which various
visualized offerings arise. The various offerings are consecrated by means of
mantras and mudrās. After an extensive description of the iconography of
Dung-kyong Karpo to aid in visualization, the ritual specialist is to:

Visualize [Dung-kyong Karpo] as being marked with oṃ at the head,

aḥ at the neck, and hūṃ at the heart. From the hūṃ at the heart [of
the deity] in front of you, [rays of ] clear light similar to hooks strike
and instantly invoke the great master of the area (gzhi bdag) together
with his entourage from the diamond palace in which they reside.
Then, recite [the following]: Vajradhāra, sovereign of the one hundred
Buddha families, together with the eight root lamas, implore the great
upāsaka, who is bound by oath and repeated empowerments, to come
to this place together with his entourage. Great guardian for the lin-
eage and the family of the royal place, master of magical power and
heavenly seals, come to this place, where there is a round gently-slop-
ing mountain.70

After the arrival of the master of the area, the great upāsaka, the ritual spe-
cialists are to recite mantras and contemplate the nonduality of the visualized
image of Dung-kyong Karpo with the master of the area. The ritual manual for
Choiriin Bogd Mountain follows nearly exactly this procedure, except that the
visualization of the mantric phonemes and the deity are even more intricate.
After the visualization,

Rays of light like iron hooks radiate from the seed syllable at the heart
of your tutelary deity. Abiding in the natural great bliss, contemplate
this invitation of the protector of the sacred mountain, the war god
along with his entourage . . . [Then recite the following:] Come, my
protector of this sacred ground, right here, right now, dwell firmly
upon the full moon seat. Because you have partaken of this murmur-
ing incantation and sound of music, a portion of this complete torma
offering, and these oblations of tea and barley wine, since you have
subdued the very worst enemies, and because you are a Dharma pro-
tector of the Tathāgata, in this very moment, approach this very place.
You have come to dwell [here] in order to destroy and cast away ill-
ness and death. Foremost of all the war gods and yogis, Dorje Öden
(Rdo rje ‘od ldan), I implore you to approach! Four Menmo71 Sisters,
consorts [of Dorje Öden], I implore you to approach! Entourage and
242 tibetan ritual

assembly, [all of you] without exception, I implore you to approach!

Dzaḥ huṃ baṃḥ hoḥ [sic]! Enter into and become one with the deity
being visualized.72

The ritual manual for Khentii Khan Mountain also closely follows this par-
adigm. It commences by acknowledging Vajrapāṇi as the protector deity of
Mongolia in general and then, from within emptiness, the ritual specialists
are to visualize the arranged offerings arising from the seed-syllables oṃ, aḥ,
and hūṃ. These offerings traverse infinite space to delight Samantabhadra in
his Pure Land. After the offerings are consecrated by mudrās and mantras, one
summons Samantabhadra “in order to tame the northern land of Mongolia.”73

In particular, we offer incense to all the praiseworthy ḍākas and ḍākinīs,

guardian spirits, and oath-bound deities, who abide in the sacred
sites of many royal mountains such as Khentii Khan, and Bogd Khan
Mountain, with its formidable steep ridges. We make an incense offer-
ing to Samantabhadra, the great deity of Chinggis Khan’s natal land,74
who is endowed with the power to subjugate the class of demons of
the dark side (nag phyogs bdud) and to guard and protect the class of
deities of the good side (dkar phyogs lha), together with his mother and
son and their retinue of attendants and messengers. We offer incense
to the supernatural brigade (dmag tshogs rdzu ‘phrul) of gods and
demons who master wind, rain, snow, and heat, along with the horse
gods, sheep gods, cattle gods, and wealth gods who propagate food
and wealth along with the affluence and prosperity of cattle. We offer
incense to the local deities, nāgas, yakṣas, and lake goddesses who con-
trol and abide in all mountain and valley [sites] such as the slate cliffs,
grassy meadowlands, groves of trees, honey bearing flowers, caves,
supports for the local deity (lha rten), stone cairns with a single tree
staff, brooks, rivers, branching streams, springs, lakes, ponds, pools,
and wells [upon] the mountain, all of which are part of the region of
this sacred land.75

These ritual manuals for Otgontenger Mountain, Bogd Khan Mountain,

Choiriin Bogd Mountain, and Khentii Khan Mountain are unusual in that the
primary local deities of the mountain are first ritually visualized in a manner
similar to tantric tutelary deities before being petitioned and given offerings.
Ritual manuals that are not site-specific tend not to acknowledge any iconog-
raphy of the local deity, and do not ritually conjoin the invoked local deity with
a visualized image. Further research will hopefully reveal whether this major
distinction in the genre of incense offering rituals is related to a distinction
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 243

between mountains that fall into the category of yul lha cult sites and those that
are neri sites.
Since Otgontenger Mountain, Bogd Khan Mountain, Choiriin Bogd Moun-
tain, and Khentii Khan are four of the most important mountains in Mongolia,
it is not surprising that they have been given the most attention by Mongolian
ritual specialists and have the most elaborate ritual traditions. The ritual prac-
tices for these mountains establish the local deity of the mountain as being
superior in rank to the other local deities of the landscape—a notion most
explicit in the ritual manual for the veneration of Otgontenger Mountain. Fur-
thermore, these ritual manuals serve as examples of how Buddhists appropri-
ated the practice of the ritual veneration of the landscape by introducing a ritual
tradition that addressed the same pragmatic concerns as the indigenous ritual
specialists while operating within the framework of tantric Buddhism. This
ritual tradition should not be seen as an unavoidable corruption of Buddhism
by “Shamanism”; rather, Buddhist missionaries intentionally constructed a
tradition that would appeal to potential converts to Buddhism while making
the shamans and elders ritually obsolete in Mongolian society. To reinforce
this, embedded in the ritual manuals themselves are narrative elements that
describe the conversion of the local deity to the support of the Dharma. The
performance of these rituals thus serves as a reminder that the sacred geogra-
phy of Mongolia has been appropriated by, and thoroughly integrated into the
Buddhist tradition.

notes
1. See, for instance, Henry Serruys, “Early Lamaism in Mongolia,” Oriens Extremus
10 (1963): 181–216; Alice Sárközi, “A Text of Popular Religious Belief: Cutting off the
Lasso,” Acta Orientalia 39/1 (1985): 39–40; Alice Sárközi, “A Bon Funeral Rite in Lamaist
Mongolia,” in Synkretismus in den Religionen Zentralasiens, ed. Walther Heissig and
Hans-Joachim Klimkeit (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1987), 119; and Walther
Heissig, “Banishing of Illnesses into Effigies in Mongolia,” Asian Folklore Studies 45
(1986): 33–43. I discuss the problems with Sárközi’s articles at length later.
2. Richard S. Cohen, “Nāga, Yakṣiṇī, Buddha: Local Deities and Local Buddhism at
Ajanta,” History of Religions 37/4 (May 1998): 377.
3. See Jonathan Z. Smith, Imagining Religion: From Babylon to Jonestown (Chicago,
IL: University of Chicago Press, 1982), 55, and To Take Place, 104.
4. See Grimes, Rite Out of Place, 108–9.
5. Grimes, Rite Out of Place, 108.
6. There are a number of emic concepts that are more appropriate than “sacred”
as means of describing the perception of a feature of the landscape. Concepts indige-
nous to Mongolia include the idea that a site is the abode of a tenger (deity), that it pos-
sesses id shid (magical power), and sur (splendor). Other emic concepts implying the
244 tibetan ritual

sacrality of a place or object were introduced to Mongolia via Tibetan Buddhism—

concepts such as byin rlabs (blessing), gnas (abode), and rten (support), all convey a sense
of the “sacred” that is entirely immanent.
7. See Walther Heissig, The Religions of Mongolia (London: Routledge and Kegan
Paul, 1980), 25–26.
8. Although commonly used in the literature on Mongolian and Tibetan religions
to refer to the pre-Buddhist indigenous matrix of religious beliefs and practices, when
employed in this way “Shamanism” is a less-than-accurate category for understanding
Mongolian religions, obscuring through the use of a single totalizing category the inter-
nal heterogeneity that exists among ritual specialists within Mongolian societies. For an
excellent discussion of the diverse roles of Mongolian ritual specialists, see Caroline
Humphrey, Shamans and Elders: Experience, Knowledge, and Power Among the Daur
Mongols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), which is discussed in detail later.
9. For an insightful and thorough critique of this all-too-pervasive aspect of twen-
tieth century scholarship on Mongolian religions, see Christopher P. Atwood, “Buddhism
and Popular Ritual in Mongolian Religion: A Reexamination of the Fire Cult,” History of
Religions 36/2 (1996): 112–39.
10. Alice Sárközi, “A Text of Popular Religious Belief: Cutting off the Lasso,” Acta
Orientalia 39/1 (1985): 39–40.
11. Among such malevolent forces listed are pretas, a term nonexistent in pre-
Buddhist Mongolia.
12. Sárközi, “A Text of Popular Religious Belief,” 39, 43.
13. Christopher Atwood nicely sums up this problem when he notes that many
scholars think that “a ritual with a practical function, for example, to ward off disease or
jealous spirits, is ipso facto not Buddhist but rather shamanistic.” Atwood, “Buddhism
and Popular Ritual,” 118.
14. Alice Sárközi, “A Bon Funeral Rite,” 119.
15. Alice Sárközi, “A Mongolian Text of Exorcism,” in Shamanism in Eurasia, ed.
Mihály Hoppál (Gottigen: Edition Herodot, 1984), 328.
16. Sárközi, “A Mongolian Text of Exorcism,” 334.
17. Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice, tr. Richard Nice (Stanford: Stanford
University Press, 1990), 52.
18. Walther Heissig “A Mongolian Source to the Lamaist Suppression of
Shamanism in the 17th Century,” Anthropos 48 (1953): 493. Heissig uses “ongghot,” the
Classical Mongolian spelling of “ongod,” in the quotes that follow.
19. Heissig, “A Mongolian Source,” 511.
20. Heissig, “A Mongolian Source,” 511.
21. Walther Heissig presents a synopsis of Neyichi Toyin’s biography in “A
Mongolian Source,” and in The Religions of Mongolia.
22. Heissig emphasizes that Neyichi Toyin was criticized for openly disseminating
tantric practices. Toyin defended himself against these charges by claiming that his aim
was to convert as many Mongols as possible to Buddhism by enticing them with tantric
ritual practices. He admitted that teaching tantra in this way would necessarily be super-
ficial and ineffective. The widespread dissemination of tantric practices did not actually
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 245

result in the elimination of ritual specialists, whether shamans, lay Buddhist ritual spe-
cialists, or ordained ritual specialists. See “A Mongolian Source,” 528–30.
23. Charles Bawden summarizes some of the positions Mongolists have proposed
in “Two Mongol Texts Concerning Obo-Worship,” Oriens Extremus 5/1 (1958): 23. Some
scholars argue that the ovoo was ritually insignificant, or possibly even nonexistent,
prior to the introduction of Buddhism and that the cult of the ovoo is of Tibetan origin
and influence. However, there is ample evidence of ritual practices at stone cairns in
cultures across the world; see F. Sierksma, “Sacred Cairns in Pastoral Cultures,” History
of Religions 2/2 (1963): 227–41. For another summary of the history and function of the
ovoo, see Chaolu Wu and Kevin Stuart, “Rethinking the Mongol Oboo,” Anthropos 90
(1995): 544–54.
24. Bawden, Two Mongol Texts,” 40.
25. See Atwood, “Buddhism and Popular Ritual,” 137–39.
26. Ágnes Birtalan, “Typology of Stone Cairn Obos,” in Tibetan Mountain Deities,
Their Cults and Representations, ed. Anne-Marie Blondeau (Vienna: Verlag der
Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1998), 199–200.
27. Khatgin O. Sukhbaatar, Mongolyn gazar usny neryn domog (Mongolian Legends
of the Land) (Ulaanbaatar: Alliance of Religions and Conservation, 2001), 13. All transla-
tions from Mongolian and Tibetan sources are my own, unless otherwise indicated.
I am greatly indebted to Erdenebaatar Erdene-Ochir for guiding my translations from
Mongolian.
28. The mani prayer is, of course, oṃ maṇi padme hūṃ. The megdzem prayer (Tib.
dmigs brtse ma) is an homage prayer to Tsong kha pa Blo bzang grags pa (1357–1419) that
has three forms: an outer version in which Vajrapāṇi is omitted, an inner version includ-
ing Vajrapāṇi, and a secret version including Vajrapāṇi and Vajradhāra as the central
Buddha.
29. Tib. rten ‘brel; Mong. bileg demberelgui. This could also be understood as con-
veying the sense of bad omen or inauspiciousness.
30. That is, urinating.
31. Dambii, Sukhiin, “Uul ovoo rashaan usny takhilgand oroltsoj baisan Mongol
ulamjlal” (The Mongolian Tradition that has Participated in Offerings to Mountains,
Ovoos, and Sacred Mineral Springs) (Ulaanbaatar, pamphlet, 2003), 15–17.
32. This phrase is rather ambiguous. Perhaps it refers to accessories for one’s
horse, or, more likely, spare parts for one’s automobile.
33. Sukhbaatar, Mongolian Legends of the Land, 14.
34. Fermented mare’s milk.
35. This sentence parallels the previous sentence concerning offering stones from
the lower and middle slope of the mountain. Here, the skirt refers to the pile of stones,
which cascade outward and downward from the central flagstaff. The practice involves
lifting a stone from the bottom of the ovoo and placing it nearer to the top and toward
the central flagstaff, just as in the previous sentence the practice involves bringing a
stone from the bottom of the mountain and placing it on the ovoo at its peak.
36. Sukhbaatar, Mongolian Legends of the Land, 14.
37. Humphrey, Shamans and Elders, 50.
246 tibetan ritual

38. Humphrey, Shamans and Elders, 51. By “classic spirit-managing shaman” she
is referring to the general European theories of Siberian “Shamanism” that identify the
shaman as a “wounded healer” who is capable of entering into an ecstatic trance in
order to engage with deities and to ascend to heaven or descend to the underworld.
39. Caroline Humphrey, “Chiefly and Shamanist Landscapes in Mongolia,” in The
Anthropology of Landscape, ed. Eric Hirsch and Michael O’Hanlon (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1995), 135–62.
40. Humphrey, “Chiefly and Shamanist,” 148.
41. Elsewhere, Humphrey writes: “[Ongon] spirits were ‘ancestral’ in a different
sense from the old man’s ancestors. Shamanic spirits had previously belonged to an
earlier shaman, but they were not inherited in the male line . . . The link could zig-zag
from women to men and vice-versa, or branch off into temporary animal existence.”
Humphrey, Shamans and Elders, 36–37.
42. Humphrey, “Chiefly and Shamanist,” 153. Walther Heissig also cites a
Mongolian source on this: “The souls of the Shamans and Shamanesses who have died
since a long time ago, becoming the masters, Ongghot and demons of these mountains,
streams, brooks, lakes, and forests etc. are helpful as well as harmful to creatures.”
Heissig, “A Mongolian Source,” 508–09. See also Magdalena Tatár, who writes: “The
spirits of shaman forefathers are believed to take up residence on mountain tops after
their death and the prayers addressed to them often start with a description of their
‘dwelling places’ ”; Magdalena Tatár, “Two Mongol Texts Concerning the Cult of the
Mountains,” Acta Orientalia 30/1 (1976): 15.
43. Humphrey, “Chiefly and Shamanist,” 151.
44. Humphrey, “Chiefly and Shamanist,” 148.
45. Caroline Humphrey, Marx Went Away—But Karl Stayed Behind (Ann Arbor:
University of Michigan Press, 1998), 423.
46. Humphrey, Shamans and Elders, 128.
47. Humphrey, Shamans and Elders, 128. The relationship between ancestors, local
deities, and the landscape is highly idiosyncratic and site-specific. Nevertheless, it is
possible to generalize: the deaths of unusual people (for instance, shamans) or unusual
deaths result in the deceased becoming an ancestral spirit and taking up residence in
the landscape. In some instances, the identity of the ancestral spirit becomes integrated
with the local deities of the landscape. However, as Humphrey points out, the burial
practices that resulted in the transformation of the shaman’s soul into an ongon pre-
served a distinction between this type of ancestral spirit and other ancestral spirits or
local deities of the landscape.
48. Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle (1998) vol. 1: 432–33.
49. Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle (1998) vol. 1: 441.
50. Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle (1998) vol. 1: 314.
51. Toni Huber, The Cult of Pure Crystal Mountain: Popular Pilgrimage and Visionary
Landscape in Southeast Tibet (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 27.
52. These generic texts often have simple titles such as Klu’i bsangs or Sa bdag spyir
gser skyems.
53. Tenger is a Mongolian word for a deity as well as for a deified sky or heaven.
Here it is used somewhat unusually to refer to one’s tutelary deity.
 the ritual veneration of mongolia’s mountains 247

54. O. Barsbold, Otgontenger uulyn takhilga ba ochirvaani burkhan (“The Offering

[Ritual] to Otgontenger Mountain and Vajrapani Buddha”) (Ulaanbaatar, pamphlet,
2004), 15.
55. Tib. klu; Mong. lus: a class of subterranean and subaquatic beings who are
often the recipients of offerings at mountains and ovoos.
56. Dambii, “Uul ovoo rashaan us,” 14.
57. UNESCO and the Mongolian Ministry of Enlightenment, “Mongolia’s Tentative
List: Cultural and Natural Heritage” (Paris: UNESCO/WHC, 1996), 39.
58. Humphrey, “Chiefly and Shamanist,” 140, 148.
59. Although, to this day animals are killed and eaten during ovoo rituals; Buddhists
tend to justify this by claiming that the animal is not actually ritually offered as a means
of petitioning the deity.
60. Karmay, The Arrow and the Spindle (1998) vol. 1: 446. Many sacred sites in
Mongolia follow the general pan-Asian paradigm of “mandalization.” The Ulaanbaatar
valley, which is surrounded by four sacred mountains, is considered to be a maṇḍala of
Cakrasamvara. On mandalization, see Huber, The Cult of Pure Crystal Mountain, 26 and
throughout.
61. This ritual manual, entitled Lha chen od hong theng ker sogs la bsangs mchod ‘bul
tshul bde legs ‘dod dgu’i char ‘bebs (Praying for the Rain of All Auspicious Desires to Fall:
Being the Method for Making Incense Offerings to the Great Deity of Otgontenger Mountain),
was composed by an abbot named Ngag dbang ‘phrin las rgya mtsho (dates unknown).
It is part of an important collection of ritual manuals published in facsimile by Mongolian
scholar Khatgin O. Sukhbaatar in his Mongolyn takhilgat uul usny sudar orshboi (Sacred
Sites of Mongolia) (Ulaanbaatar: WWF Mongolia/ARC, 2001).
62. An epithet of Vajrapāṇi.
63. The Tibetan reads ba ka bog do (Mong. baga bogd), meaning “little Bogd [moun-
tain].” This is an important epithet for Otgontenger Mountain as it establishes a connec-
tion with Bogd Khan Mountain, the southern of four mountains encircling the
Ulaanbaatar valley and one of the most important sacred mountains in Mongolia. There
is a Mongolian legend that Otgontenger originated on the occasion of a severe drought
in Zavkhan province. The famished people sent a strong man to Bogd Khan Mountain
to bring part of the mountain, known for its abundant water, back to Zavkhan. The man
lassoed the mountain, severing it in half, and took the top half with him, which became
known as Otgontenger Mountain. See Sukhbaatar, Sacred Mountains of Mongolia, 92.
64. Ngag dbang ‘phrin las rgya mtsho, Lha chen od hong theng ker, ff. 1b–2b.
65. Ngag dbang ‘phrin las rgya mtsho, Lha chen od hong theng ker, ff. 3b–4a.
66. Eva Jane Neumann Fridman also found evidence of the Buddhist conversion
of ezen in Buryatia. “Some shamanic [ezen] of obos were not ‘dismissed from their duties’
and instead were given new Tibetan names and even canonical lama portraits . . . The
chief Buryat god, Bukha–Noyon, was changed by lamas into Rinchen-Khan . . . Other
widely known shamanist gods were included in the lamaist pantheon and canonized.”
Eva Jane Neumann Fridman, Sacred Geography: Shamanism Among the Buddhist Peoples
of Russia (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 2004), 137.
67. The text, composed by Blo bzang dpal mgon (dates unknown), exists in manu-
script form and is entitled Sa bdag rgyal po rgan po dkar po la bsangs mchod gtor cho ga
248 tibetan ritual

(The Torma and Incense Offering Ritual for the Sovereign Master of the Earth, The White
Old Man).
68. An epithet of the Buddha.
69. Blo bzang dpal mgon, Sa bdag rgyal po rgan po dkar po, ff. 1b–4b.
70. Dashravdan Unenbiligt, Pho lha dung skyong dkar po’i gsol mchod (The Offering
and Invocation to the Male Deity White Shell Protector), in Sukhbaatar, Sacred Sites of
Mongolia, 84–88, ff. 1a–2b. Sukhbaatar attributes authorship of this text to Dashravdan
Unenbiligt, though the only name in the colophon is Gun dga’ pang bde legs (dates
unknown). I am grateful to Dr. Greg Hillis for patiently advising me on the many mis-
spellings and opaque passages in this text. A similar ritual manual that exists in manu-
script form, Pho lha dung skyong dkar po klu dang bcas ba’i bsangs mchod (The Incense
Offering Ritual to the Male Deity White Shell Protector and the Nāga) by Blo bzang dpal
ldan bstan pa’i nyi ma, eschews the visualization of the deity and instead commences
with an elaborate visualization of torma to be presented to the deity. Blo bzang dpal ldan
bstan pa’i nyi ma is the name of the Fourth Paṇ chen bla ma (1782–1853), who may be
the author of this text.
71. Guardian deities of lakes.
72. Blo bzang tshul khrims rgya mtsho, Byang phyogs khal kha’i yul gyi ‘od gsel ri bo
gnas skyong rdo rje ‘od ldan gyi gsol mchod bdud rgyal dung gi sgra dbyangs (The Euphonious
Conch Shell of the King of the Maras: The Offering and Invocation to Rdo rje ‘od ldan, The
Abode Protector of Choiriin Bogd Sacred Mountain in the Land of the Northern Khalkha
Mongols), ff. 2a–4a. TBRC P3096 lists a Blo bzang tshul khrims rgya mtsho (1841–1907)
as having visited Mongolia. It is therefore possible that during his time there he com-
posed this ritual manual.
73. Zava Damdin (Blo bzang rta mgrim = Blo bzang rta dbyangs, 1867–1937) Kun
tu bzang po zhes grags pa’i sa ‘dzin dbang po’i lha klu gzhi bdag rnams la bsangs mchod ‘bul
tshul kun bzang dga’ ston zhes bya ba (The Banquet of Samantabhadra: Being The Method
for Making Incense Offerings to the Local Deity, Nāga, and Master of the Area of The Powerful
Mountain Renowned as Samantabhadra), in Sukhbaatar, Sacred Sites of Mongolia, 96–100,
ff. 1b–2b.
74. At the beginning of this ritual manual (f. 1b), Chinggis Khan is identified as the
cakravartin of the region of Khentii Khan Mountain. Sukhbaatar notes that this region
is sacred on account of being a burial site of the great Khans (see Sukhbaatar, Sacred
Sites of Mongolia, 96). This further supports the notion that the Buddhist ritual tradition
that venerates sacred mountains and mountain deities has also integrated local ances-
tral spirits into the pantheon of deities venerated.
75. Zava Damdin, Kun tu bzang po, ff. 4a–5a.
11
Encounter with a Dream
Bhutanese Pilgrims in Tibet—Performing a Ritual?

françoise pommaret

In recent years Katia Buffetrille, Toni Huber, and Alex McKay,1 among
other scholars, have made breakthrough contributions to the field of
Tibetan pilgrimage studies. This chapter does not pretend to be a thor-
ough study of pilgrimage, comparable to the work of these colleagues.
Its scope is rather more modest. In 2007, I had the good fortune to
go for a week on a pilgrimage to Tibet with Bhutanese friends. Bhuta-
nese pilgrimage has never been documented. This chapter is therefore
meant as a contribution to the corpus of data on pilgrimage in the
Tibetan and Himalayan world by adding some observations concern-
ing the Bhutanese case, and how it might be considered a form of
ritual.2 First, I briefly place Bhutanese pilgrimage to Tibet in the con-
text of religious history and geography. Then I propose to interpret the
pilgrimage as a form of ritual, and present some salient features based
on the fieldtrip to support my point.

Bhutanese Pilgrims in Tibet

For centuries and until 1959, Bhutanese used to go to Tibet for religious
purposes as well as for trade. Because of their Drugpa (‘Brug pa) and
Nyingmapa (Rnying ma pa) long-standing religious affiliations, Bhuta-
nese went mostly to south-central Tibet, including Lhodrag (Lho brag),
Kongpo, Dagpo (Dwags po), and Kham (Khams); monks studied in the
central Tibetan monasteries of Drug Ralung (’Brug Rwa lung), Mindröl
250 tibetan ritual

Ling (Smin grol gling), Dorje Drag (Rdo rje brag), as well as in several monasteries
in Kham, especially Dzogchen (Rdzogs chen), Katog (Kaḥ thog), Pelyul (Dpal yul),
and Pelpung (Dpal spungs). There are also records of Bhutanese monks studying
in the Gelugpa (Dge lugs pa) stronghold of Drepung (‘Bras spungs) near Lhasa
in the 1920s.3 Moreover, among many other examples, we know about reincarna-
tion links between Bhutan and Tibet,4 countless trips by Tibetan and Bhutanese
lamas5 and by the royal family in the early twentieth century6 as well as of the large
offerings made to religious masters, temples, and monasteries in Tibet.7 All these
religious interactions reinforced the sense of the two countries having a common
religious base. The pilgrimage to Tibet was rarely seen as a political gesture of
any sort, but rather as a form of worship at a common fountainhead, in the same
way as Muslims from all over the world go to Mecca, Roman Catholics to Rome,
or Jews to Jerusalem. In Tibet, the most common pilgrimage circuit done by the
Bhutanese was Tsari in southern Dagpo, on the border with Arunachal Pradesh,
India, and the expression Tsari nyugma (Tsa ri snyug ma), “the bamboo of Tsari,”
is still used in Bhutan in songs and literature. Unfortunately, there seems to be no
written record of Bhutanese pilgrimage to Tsari.
Under the guise of pilgrimage, however, missions could be undertaken when
required. One of the most famous examples is the mission to Tibet by Chung Rinpo-
ché Ngawang Pekar (Chung rin po che Ngag dbang pad dkar, b. 17th century) at the
end of the seventeenth century, as related in the biography of his brother Jamgön
Ngawang Gyeltsen (Byams mgon ngag dbang rgyal mtshan 1647–1732), who him-
self was at the Derge King’s court for several years:

Desi Gedün Chöphel summoned to the capital Jamgön’s brother

Ngawang Pekar He instructed him to go to Kham under the pretext
of conducting a pilgrimage and deliver a letter giving Jamgön permis-
sion to return, should he have fulfilled his mission there. The Desi
considered this the best option—dispatch of a special envoy was not
thought appropriate, since the prevailing relationship between Bhutan
and Tibet was not harmonious.8

After the closure of the border in 1959, all interactions stopped. Although Bhutan
is closer to central Tibet than, for example, Kham is, Tibet became a distant and
fabled land as remote as the mythical Shambhala. It was almost forty years, toward
the end of the 1990s, until the Bhutanese started going to Tibet again, and this
time officially as tourists. For the Tibet Autonomous Region (TAR), there is no
special financial concession available to the Bhutanese; they have to form a group
and pay the same amount as Western tourists. Travel agents in Thimphu with
connections in Kathmandu advertise groups meant as “Pilgrimages (gnas skor)
to Tibet” in the Bhutanese media. Of course, to go to Tibet one has to be quite
 encounter with a dream: bhutanese pilgrims in tibet 251

well-off, or make a special financial effort. A large part of the Bhutanese can afford
to go to Nepal or Bodhgaya, which they do in winter, but Tibet is still too expensive
for eighty percent of the population. Among the urban middle-class in their 40s,
those who can afford the trip first offer it to their parents as a kind of thanksgiving
gesture, with the view that their elderly parents should have priority. If the children
have means, they accompany the parents; otherwise they wait for “their turn.”
It is the dream of every Bhutanese to go to Tibet, and the trip is never envis-
aged as a simple trip but always as a nekor, a pilgrimage. The whole mental out-
look concerning the journey is therefore very specific: the eventual hardships
or personal inconveniences that may be encountered are never mentioned. It
is a religious journey that is going to bring merit and help one’s practice. The
reality of geography or of politics has absolutely no relevance, and the history of
the place visited is significant only insofar as a given site has some connection
with renowned religious figures or important religious events.
The Dalai Lama’s comments on pilgrimage apply perfectly to the Bhuta-
nese pilgrims:

They (Buddhists) visit places where a spiritual master once spent time
meditating. His presence makes the place seem somehow blessed or
charged, as if there is some kind of electricity around it. Pilgrims come
to feel these mysterious vibrations. They try to share in the visions of
the master. Along their road, they undertake hardship with no thought
of material reward. Their every step, every movement, becomes filled
with a sense of spiritual progress. Many intensify the sense of hard-
ship along the way by going barefoot, or reciting prayers or mantras,
and so increase the spiritual merit they gain.9

Although there is no written Bhutanese pilgrimage guide or neyig (gnas yig) of

Tibet, our whole trip becomes an enacted neyig, and after such an experience,
I would almost feel competent to write a traditional gnas yig of the places visited
by the Bhutanese.

The Religious Geography of Tibet in the Bhutanese Mind:

Lhasa, Samyé, Pö (Bod), and Kham

Most Bhutanese traditionally care very little about geography, and the Western
obsession with the names of the mountains, passes, maps, etc. never ceases to
astonish them. Instead, Bhutanese need to know how long a trip takes, where
the evening stops for food and shelter will be, and when holy places are going
to be encountered.
252 tibetan ritual

The notion of Tibet is in fact relatively recent, and for most Bhutanese
Tibet is not defined in scientific or geographical terms. Tibet or Pö (Bod) means
Lhasa and Samyé, which in their minds is somewhere near Lhasa. Pö—or
rather Ütsang (Dbus Gtsang), central and western Tibet—is the region that is
geographically close to Bhutan; Kham is very important in religious geography
because of all the important Kargyu, Nyingma, and Rimé (Ris med) centers
located there, but only a few people know where Kham is actually located, and
how far it is from Lhasa.
Rather than being geographic entities on a map, names like Lhasa and
Kham conjure up religious images. Bhutanese dream Tibet, but not a fantasy
Tibet like that found in the Western imaginary. They dream the religious side
of the place, and visit it with this perception—that is, with a sense of religious
devotion and awe.
Therefore, to walk into this Tibet, a religiously imagined entity, in an age
of permits, passports, and tickets, the Bhutanese need someone not only to
organize the material side of the trip, but also someone to serve as a guide
who will explain the meaning of the places. The tradition of having a person
with a religious background in the group, and if possible someone who speaks
Tibetan, is still an ideal; it is essential in order for the pilgrimage to have its full
impact and for the full benefit to participants to be realized. The figure of the
religious guide is in fact as central to the pilgrimage as it is to a ritual, and it is
this aspect that I would like to now explore.

Pilgrimage as a Ritual

Toni Huber writes:

Like many examples of Tibetan popular ritual, they [pilgrimages] are

in fact a combination of different acts and rites . . . Tibetan pilgrimages
can encompass mundane material concerns, complex social agendas,
and both proximate and ultimate soteriological orientations and goals.
Thus, as a general class of ritual activity, they are not amenable to
either simple description and analysis or rigid classification.10

This might have deterred me from trying to write on the subject. However, Toni
Huber’s remarks refer to pilgrimages in general, and I am focusing here on the
specific topic of Bhutanese pilgrimage to Tibet, which, as mentioned earlier,
has not been previously documented in Western scholarly literature. I attempt
to point out convergences between pilgrimage and ritual, without denying the
multiplicity of approaches and the uniqueness of each pilgrimage.
 encounter with a dream: bhutanese pilgrims in tibet 253

Pilgrimage belongs to the ritual corpus in the sense that it is a religious

action performed with a religious guide for defined aims with a right attitude
and in a well- defined spatio-temporal dimension. It is sequenced like a ritual
by a series of prerequisites, or features, which are also usually present in ritu-
als, and that I now describe.

1. Material Arrangements. A number of material arrangements have to be

made before departure. This includes the financial side of the journey,
settling on an appropriate time so as not to disturb the agricultural cal-
endar or other activities, the availability of people to look after the house-
hold while family members are away, and eventually the determination
of the astrologically auspicious time, although the mere act of visiting
Tibet appears to outweigh (in the sense of being more auspicious than)
any impact of a negative date.
Moreover, threads and modern religious objects such as small
vajras or cakras (wheels) have to be purchased in order that these might
be blessed in each of the holy places. This shopping is usually done at
Boudanath in Nepal, a great pilgrimage place for the Bhutanese, who
feel at ease here since they all speak Nepali. Lastly, gold or semiprecious
stones belonging to the family might be taken along for “adorning”—
that is, as offerings to—statues in Tibet. Other offerings include white
scarves and money for offerings (snyan dar11) given by friends and fam-
ily, homemade butter, and Bhutanese incense, reported to be highly
valued in Tibet.12
2. The Religious Guide. For a Bhutanese going to Tibet, a religious guide is
indispensable, and some would-be pilgrims would not go if such a per-
son were not available. The person has to speak Tibetan, has to be able
to explain the religious significance of the sites, and has to translate for
the pilgrims the explanations given by Tibetan temple-custodians. It
matters little if the religious guide has not previously visited the sites;
the most important trait of the guide is that he or she provide explana-
tions and impart a sense of religious values while visiting the sites. This
is necessary in order to obtain the maximum benefit and merit. It also,
of course, serves as teaching, which will ultimately enhance the per-
sonal practice of the pilgrim.
3. Right Attitude. The pilgrims should have a sense of commitment and
not harbor any negative feelings or attitudes, something that is per-
ceived as diminishing the spiritual benefit of the journey for the whole
group. Squabbles and interpersonal conflicts therefore have to be
avoided so as not to create negative feelings and distract the group
254 tibetan ritual

members from their spiritual enterprise. In addition, if the group

encounters any hardship or obstacle on the way, this should be taken as
a test of their determination. It should not affect their positive attitude.
4. Correct Performance. Again, as in the case of a ritual, the correct perfor-
mance of the pilgrimage is of tantamount importance because its effi-
cacy depends on it. This is where the religious guide plays an important
role. The members of the group must also be aware of the series of
duties that pilgrims perform at each place.
The “mandalization” of space in Tibetan culture has been well stud-
ied. In the case of a holy site, even if the pilgrims are not highly edu-
13

cated, the site is, consciously or not, envisaged as a three-dimensional

maṇḍala. However, at the sites, the physical movements are the reverse of
those in the practice of the meditation in front of a maṇḍala. Thus, the
pilgrims go straight inside the temple and prostrate in front of the main
image; they then offer their monetary contribution and the incense bun-
dles which they carried from Bhutan. Then they circumambulate the
temple inside and listen to religious explanations of important statues,
relics, as well as stone imprints and unusual rock formation or specific
trees. They do not hesitate to collect water, earth, bark (see Figure 11.1),

figure 11.1. Collecting bits of bark from a sacred site. Photo F. Pommaret (2007).
 encounter with a dream: bhutanese pilgrims in tibet 255

leaves, or small stones which have a special meaning, and are empowered
by virtue of their association with different holy places.14
In the Jokhang Temple, pilgrims obtain, in return for monetary
donations, a few ready-made packets containing pieces of the Jowo (Jo
bo) statue’s clothes; they also receive blessed pills. Upon their return,
these mementos are placed in the family altar and also distributed, as
we shall see. Wherever they go, the pilgrims touch the images and relics
with their head for the blessing, and briefly place on the images the bag
containing the cords and amulets purchased before departure so that
the objects also get blessed. While doing so, they pray and place a small
monetary contribution in front of each image and relic. They also offer
the monetary contributions and scarves that friends and relatives have
sent with them. After completing their visit, they go outside the temple
and circumambulate it, spinning prayer-wheels as they go.
The holy sites have value, not only because of what they religiously
embody, but also by virtue of the presence of the religious and mythical
figures who visited or lived there. In a holy place, past and present, his-
tory and myth are transcended to become one forceful spiritual entity
which ultimately benefits the pilgrims.
5. Offerings. Besides the monetary contribution made in each temple and
in front of each image, Bhutanese pilgrims usually make special offer-
ings at the Jokhang and at Samyé, the two most important sites for
them. Bhutanese know the story of the construction of the Jokhang, as
two of the “Temples for Subjugating [Spirits]” (mtha’ ’dul dang yang ’dul
gyi gtsug lag khang) are located in Bhutan: Kyichu (Skyid chu) in Paro
valley and Jampa (Byams pa) in Bumthang valley. Moreover, the story of
the Nepalese and Chinese spouses of King Songtsen Gampo is very
popular in Bhutan, and the Jowo is the most revered image. Samyé is
considered special because of the devotion that all Bhutanese have for
Guru Rinpoché, and because of their fervent belief that Bhutan is pro-
tected by him. Pilgrims offer gold and stones to the images, or even
flower arrangements. They also light 50, 100, or 1,000 butter-lamps for
the benefit of their entire family.
A trip to Tibet is also an occasion to hang prayer-flags or lungta
(rlung rta) for the well-being of the pilgrims. Their religious guide
chooses the most appropriate day and place to do so. He then recites the
short lungta prayer, considered a mind treasure (dgongs gter) of the
revered Nyinmapa master Düjom Rinpoché (Bdud ‘joms rin po che ‘Jig
dral ye shes rdo rje, 1904–87), which incorporates the lotag (lo rtags), the
animal sign of the birth year of the person (Figure 11.2).
256 tibetan ritual

figure 11.2. The religious guide at a prayer-flag site. Photo F. Pommaret (2007).

The visits as well as the offerings are accomplished by paying atten-

tion to the smallest details in order to gain the greatest religious benefit,
but pilgrims are also careful not to do anything that could jeopardize or
pollute the blessings thus acquired.15
6. Sharing the Blessed Objects. The objects collected at the sites as well as the
prepurchased objects blessed during the pilgrimage are kept isolated and
clean in the luggage. They are wrapped separately, and should not touch
any clothing or shoes, which are considered dirty. They are usually carried
as hand luggage on the plane. These objects are not only blessings for the
pilgrim and empowered mementos that will be placed in the family altar,
but they are also the living testimonies of the pilgrimage; they confer on
the pilgrim an elevated status in the society. The protection cords, which
everyone had brought in ample quantity, are distributed to the whole fam-
ily, colleagues, and friends, with priority given to sick people. The small
objects, such as the vajras and wheels or cakras, are given to monks and to
young people, who often attach them onto their mobile phones. The
blessed water and the small natural or vegetable mementos from the holy
site are kept in the family altar, and will be used in minuscule quantities in
times of need—for example, when someone is sick or dying.
 encounter with a dream: bhutanese pilgrims in tibet 257

For the Bhutanese, another important testimony of having made

the pilgrimage are photos, which are, like the objects, empowered by
the different places visited, and are testimonies of their visits. These too
confer prestige to the pilgrims. They pose in front of each temple and
try to take a photo of the Jowo statue in the Jokhang as they are ushered
by it. Taking photos is now a part of the pilgrimage ritual, one of the
requirements for a pilgrimage to be successful. Photos of sites will be
distributed to relatives and placed in the altar; albums will be put
together; entrance tickets are added to the photos for visitors to the
household to see. Each photo is then commented on, and religious
explanations are given to people who did not have the chance to go. The
audience, in turn, listens with admiration and envy.

The purposes of a pilgrimage are complex and multifaceted. The Dalai Lama
provides one explanation:

We Buddhists believe that merit is accumulated when you take part

in something religious, with discipline and faith, because in doing so
you shape a proper attitude within. With the right attitude, any journey
to a sacred place becomes a pilgrimage. In our tradition, the Buddha
advised that in times to come people interested in his teachings should
be told about the places associated with the major events of his life.
His purpose was not to ensure the aggrandizement of the person of
the Buddha, but rather the welfare of his followers. We believe that
expressing respect and admiration for the qualities of the Buddha—by
making offerings or undertaking a pilgrimage—contributes to our
own spiritual progress.16

Bhutanese pilgrims share the same beliefs and goals when they undertake a pil-
grimage: not only cleansing, empowerment, gaining merit, but also increasing
their determination for religious practice in their daily life. This aspect seems
to be particularly important for them, and it is an occasion to take pledges to
become better practitioners. It is seen as giving one the opportunity to take one
more step in one’s religious practice.
Like a ritual, pilgrimage is therefore the occasion to renew the faith of the
person and to ask for protection. It is composed of a number of sequences
and actions which have to be performed with the right attitude to have a maxi-
mum efficacy, whatever the complex personal aims of the pilgrims might be.
They could be summarized as follows: preparations; performance, offerings,
and liturgy (if we consider prayers examples of this); blessings; sharing of the
objects.
258 tibetan ritual

Specificities of Bhutanese Pilgrims

It is a truism to say that people only see what they are familiar with and what
has relevance for them. In the case of Bhutanese pilgrims, although all the
religious sites are holy, because of the financial constraints, they usually can-
not spend more than one week to ten days in Tibet. Because of this they have
to prioritize, in accordance with their religious interests, which sites they will
visit. Moreover, some of the sites that they would like to visit are out of bounds
for foreigners (at least for the time being)—places like Ralung and Lhodrag.
For the Bhutanese, the most important accessible sites are Lhasa, Samyé,
and Mindröl Ling. However, given the opportunity, they would also visit
Kongpo, where several sites are associated with prestigious “treasure revealers”
or tertöns (gter ston), and especially with the Second Düjom Rinpoché (Bdud
’joms rin po che), whose teachings (gter gsar) have been tremendously influen-
tial in Bhutan. In Kongpo, the sites visited are Tso Dzong (Mtsho rdzong) in
Dragsum Tso (Brag gsum mtsho), Langma Ling (Glang ma gling), and Puchu
(Spu chu), another “border taming” (mtha’ ‘dul) temple.
In Lhasa, where they do not usually spend more than two days, a selec-
tion again has to be made. The Potala, the Jokhang, and Ramoche (Ra mo che)
temples, the Norbu Lingkha (Nor bu gling kha) summer palace, and at least
one of the great Gelugpa monasteries are visited with great fervor, and in the
case of the Potala, even awe. Time is also set aside for circumambulating the
Jokhang along its Barkor (Bar skor) circuit as well as for special offerings inside
the temple itself.
While on pilgrimage, the Bhutanese do not have an exclusive or sectarian
view. All the sites are holy, and they would gladly spend two to three weeks in
central Tibet, but as stated earlier, because of the financial cost of a pilgrimage,
they select the sites which are most important for them.
Bhutanese are puzzled by the fact that in Tibet today the most famous holy
sites are monuments at which one has to pay an entrance fee, as this does not
exist in Bhutan. Coming from a society which is very traditional when it comes
to religion, they are surprised that one does not have to remove one’s shoes or
hats when entering a temple, and that the protector deity chapels (mgon khang)
are open to public viewing. My companions were happy to see that in the two
temples associated with Düjom Rinpoché in Kongpo—Tsodzong at Dragsum
Tso and Langma Ling—shoes had to be removed and that the temples were
spotless. In fact, the relative untidiness of the majority of temples is some-
thing of a shock for the Bhutanese, who consider a clean temple to be a sign of
respect, as well as being the tangible reflection of a nonpolluted space.
 encounter with a dream: bhutanese pilgrims in tibet 259

In a society like Bhutan where everyone has a personal contact, and where
crowds are unknown, the masses of pilgrims and the pushing in the Jokhang
and Potala were quite unsettling for the Bhutanese, who had problems concen-
trating on their prayers. They preferred to go round the Barkor at night when
there were fewer people, and the atmosphere was more serene. Although they
were happy to purchase small offering packets from the Jokhang to take back
to Bhutan, the seeming lack of attention from the monks and the lack of private
space for personal devotions disturbed them.
The Bhutanese do not prostrate full length like the Tibetans do, but I ignore
the origin of this gestural difference. The encounter, on a road in Kongpo,
with a whole family from Derge in Kham (Sichuan), including five children,
who were prostrating all the way to Lhasa, amazed them and filled them with
admiration. This style of worship and pilgrimage does not exist in Bhutan, and
neither is there a tradition of prostrating around a monument or in front of it.17
All prostrations are done inside a temple.
Another custom that does not exist in Bhutan is the throwing of small
lungta papers and shouting, “Victory to the Gods!” (lha rgyal lo) at the passes,
although some people say the words in a discreet manner. Bhutanese prefer
to add a small stone to the cairn which are often found at the pass. Although
Bhutanese found that throwing lungta papers was an auspicious custom, they
thought it was damaging to the environment.
As mentioned earlier, photos sessions are very important for Bhutanese
pilgrims. The difference in the living standard of Bhutanese and Tibetan pil-
grims probably explains this major difference in modern pilgrimage practice.
There is, however, one aspect of the pilgrimage which has totally disap-
peared due to modern socio-economic circumstances: today Bhutanese do not
trade when they go on pilgrimage to Tibet. In the past, Bhutanese, as many
Tibetans still do, used to combine pilgrimage with petty trade, which financed
their journey. The trade was based on the barter system. The Bhutanese carried
paper, raw silk (bu ras), madder, and lac (laccifer lacca) as well as bamboo wares,
textiles, and even rice. They came back with woolen cloth, gold, salt, borax,
Chinese brick tea, and Chinese silk.

Conclusions

Alex McKay writes that “pilgrimage is a core element of religious practice in

the Tibetan cultural world . . . Pilgrimage today remains not only an almost uni-
versal feature of Tibetan society but also serves as a prominent indicator of
local and national cultural identity.”18 Bhutanese pilgrims, wandering in Lhasa
260 tibetan ritual

in traditional costumes, are recognized as Drukpa (‘Brug pa) and as kin in

religion. Although the journey to Tibet was physically accomplished, it was as
much a spiritual journey enacted through the mediation of religious and cul-
tural markers—a magical–realist endeavor.
Bhutanese step into the spiritual geography, common to peoples of the
Himalayas, Mongolia, and Tibet; they walk, pray, and prostrate with pilgrims
from Kham, Amdo, or Kongpo, all with their distinctive languages and dress,
but all going through the common ritual vocabulary of pilgrimage.

notes
1. Katia Buffetrille, Pèlerinages tibétains aux montagnes sacrées (Oslo: Norwegian
University Press, The Institute for Comparative Research in Human Culture, forthcom-
ing). Toni Huber, “Putting the gnas Back into gnas-skor: Rethinking Tibetan Buddhist
Pilgrimage Practice,” in Toni Huber, ed., Sacred Spaces and Powerful Places in Tibetan
Religious Culture (Dharamsala: Library of Tibetan Works and Archives, 1999), 77–104,
and The Cult of Pure Crystal Mountain. Popular Pilgrimage and Visionary Landscape in
Southeast Tibet (New York and London: Oxford University Press, 1999). Alex McKay,
ed., Pilgrimage in Tibet (London: Routledge Curzon, 1998).
2. The trip took place from January 2007 to February 2007.
3. Michael Aris, The Raven Crown (London: Serindia, 1994), 106.
4. Françoise Pommaret, “Historical and Religious Relations Between Lhodrak
(Southern Tibet) and Bumthang (Bhutan) from the 18th to the early 20th Century:
Preliminary Data,” in Tibet and Her Neighbours. Proceedings of the History of Tibet
Conference St. Andrews University 2001, Alex Mckay, ed. (London: Ed. Hansjörg Mayer,
2003), 91–106.
5. See, among others works on the subject: (1) John Ardussi, “Observations on the
Political Organisation of Western Bhutan in the 14th Century as Revealed in Records of
the ‘Bra ra’ ba Sect,” in Impressions of Bhutan and Tibetan Art, Proceedings of the 9th IATS
Leiden 2000, Tibetan Studies III, ed. John Ardussi and Henk Blezer (Leiden: Brill, 2002),
5–21. (2) “The Rapprochement Between Bhutan and Tibet Under the Enlightened Rule
of sDe srid XIII Shes-rab-dbang-phyug (r. 1744–63),” Journal of Bhutan Studies 1/1
(December, 1999): 64–83 (reprinted with corrections from Proceedings of the International
Association of Tibetan Studies VII, Graz, 1995). (3) “The House of ‘Obs-mtsho—The
History of a Bhutanese Gentry Family from the 13th to the 20th Century,” Journal of
Bhutan Studies 2/1 (Summer, 2000): 1–29. (4) Samten Karmay, “Dorje Lingpa and his
Rediscovery of the ‘Gold Needle’ in Bhutan,” Journal of Bhutan Studies 2/2 (Winter,
2000): 1–34. (5) Dorji Penjore, “Oral Construction of Exile Life and Times of Künkhyen
Longchen Rabjam in Bumthang,” Journal of Bhutan Studies 13/2 (Winter, 2005): 60–73.
(6) Lham Dorji, “Religious Life and History of the Ematated Heart-son Thukse Dawa
Gyeltshen,” Journal of Bhutan Studies 13/2 (Winter, 2005): 74–104. (7) Yoshiro Imaeda,
Karma Ura and Mynak Tulku, photographer Satoru Tabuchi, Festival and Faith at
Nyimalung (Tokyo: Hirakawa, Shuppan Inc., 2002), 195–209. (8) Sarah Harding, The
Life and Revelations of Pema Lingpa (Ithaca: Snow Lion, 2003). (9) Françoise Pommaret,
 encounter with a dream: bhutanese pilgrims in tibet 261

“The Fascinating Life of Lama Changchub Tsöngru (1817–1856) According to his

Biography,” in The Spider and the Piglet. Proceedings of the 1st International Seminar on
Bhutanese Studies 2003, ed. Karma Ura and Sonam Kinga (Thimphu: Centre for Bhutan
Studies, 2004), 73–89.
6. See, among others, Aris, The Raven Crown; Slob dpon Padma tshe dbang, ‘Brug
gi rgyal rabs slob dpon Padma tshe dbang gis sbyar ‘Brug gsal ba’i sgron me (“History of
Bhutan by Lopön Padma Tshewang”) (Thimphu: National Library, 1994).
7. David Jackson, “The ‘Bhutan Abbot’ of Ngor,” in Lungta 14 (Aspects of Tibetan
History), ed. Tashi Tsering, guest ed. Roberto Vitali (Dharamsala: Amnye Machen
Institute, Spring 2001): 88–107. Padma tshe dbang, ‘Brug gi rgyal rabs. Yonten Dargye
and Per K. Sorensen, with Gyönpo Tshering, Play of the Omniscient: Life and Works of
Jamgön Ngawang Gyaltshen, an Eminent 17–18th Century Drukpa Master (Thimphu:
National Library & Archives of Bhutan, 2008).
8. Yonten Dargye and Sørensen, Play of the Omniscient, 111.
9. The Dalai Lama, “The Path to Enlightenment,” Web-exclusive Commentary,
Newsweek, April 21, 2007, [Online] available at http://www. newsweek.com/id/35298.
10. Huber, The Cult of Pure Crystal Mountain, 12.
11. Snyan dar, contraction of snyan zhu ‘bul ba’i dar, originally meant “the silk/scarf
to inform/to pray”; verses could be written on it (Samten Karmay, private communication,
July 2007). In Bhutan, snyan dar has also come to mean the money for the offerings.
12. Interestingly, the most valued Bhutanese incense is made from a recipe origi-
nally from Smin grol gling monastery.
13. For example, A. W. Macdonald, ed., Mandala and Landscape (New Delhi: DK
Printworld, 1997).
14. Toni Huber, The Cult of Pure Crystal Mountain, 14: “The collection of stones,
pinches of soil or dust (often called nédo, ‛né stones,’ and nésa, ‘né earth’), plants, the
drinking water, and so on in the physical environment of a né are all common, though
subtle and thus often unnoticed, forms of ritual activity on pilgrimages. Such chinlab
‘harvests’ thus procure portable sources of a site’s power to be directly consumed, or
carried of for later use and further distribution.”
15. Toni Huber, The Cult of Pure Crystal Mountain, 16–17, analyzes this situation in
the following way: “Pilgrimage is seen by the Tibetans as a fundamental method of remov-
ing, purifying, or cleansing embodied drib and dik and is thus a ritual of relevance to a
wide range of general material, social and salvational concerns, from which all levels of
practitioner can benefit . . . Whether conceived of as washed, purified, or flooded by power
in various ways, the ritually transformed body of the pilgrim attains a different status.”
16. The Dalai Lama, “The Path to Enlightenment.”
17. Prostrations are nowadays done in front of the memorial mchod rten in
Thimphu, mostly by worshippers of Tibetan descent. However, since 2007, three cases
of full prostrations from one holy place to another have been documented in Bhutan.
18. McKay, Pilgrimage in Tibet, 1.
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Index

Aks.obhya, 118 auspicious days for ritual activity

alchemy, 106, 121 (dus bzang), 2, 29 (n. 2)
All-Illuminating Mirror (Kun gsal me Avalokiteśvara, 54, 209, 214; as
long), 139, 156 (n. 16), 158 (n. 27) Bungadyah 38, 50 (n. 12); mantra,
Altan Khan, 161 (n. 81), 209, 226 2, 231, 245 (n. 28)
Amdo (A mdo), 7, 56, 88 (n. 37), Ayung Lama (A g.yung bla ma
201, 260 G.yung drung bstan pa’i rgyal
Amitābha, 118, 214 mtshan, 1926–97), 192, 193
Amitāyus, 54
Amnyé Machen (A myes Rma chen) Bakhtin, Mikhail, 163 (n. 105)
Mountain, 56, 58, 59 Bari Lotsāwa (Ba ri lo tsā ba Rin
Amoghasiddhi, 118 chen grags, 1040–1112), 19, 166,
Amulet, 20, 21, 255 182 (n. 7)
animals, 3, 29, 59, 60, 61, 63, 64, 103, Barkor (Bar bskor), 257, 259
105, 108, 116, 121, 127 (n. 60), 141, Bawden, Charles R., 160, 219,
169, 170, 173, 175, 176, 177, 219, 223–224 (n. 37), 224 (n. 38, n. 41,
226, 228, 231, 237, 239, 247 (n. 59) n. 43), 229, 245 (n. 23–24)
anti-ritual rhetoric, 3 Begtse Chamsing (Beg tse lcam
Anuyoga Tantra, 75 sring), 10
Anyi Lama (A nyi bla ma), 187, 188, Bell, Catherine, 19 (n. 31), 108, 124
193, 200, 201 (n. 24)
Aparamitāyurjñāna Sūtra, 208, Belsé (Dbal gsas), 201
216–217, 218, 223 (n. 29, n. 34); Beu bum (Be’u ‘bum). See Calf ‘s
its mantra, 217, 223 (n. 29). See Nipple
also Summary of the Āyuh.sūtra be’u bum genre, 165–167, 173, 175,
astrology (rtsis), 54, 103, 167, 170, 178, 181 (n. 1)
184 (n. 23), 216, 222 (n. 27), 253 Beyer, Stephan, 30 (n. 8), 32 (n. 27,
As..tasāhasrikāprajñāpāramitā Sūtra, 29), 33 (n. 33), 34 (n. 45), 42, 51
208, 209, 218, 219, 220, 221 (n. 4) (n. 23), 124 (n. 27), 125 (n. 36), 126
Atiśa (b. 972/982), 104, 122 (n. 4) (n. 43)
292 index

Bhutan, 1, 28, 29, 67 (n. 9), 154–155 Cakrasam . vara Tantra, 124 (n. 21)
(n. 4), 250, 252, 254, 255, 258, 259, 261 Calf ‘s Nipple (Be’u ‘bum), 27, 165–181.
(n. 11); Bhutanese pilgrimage to Tibet, See also Ju Mipam
249–260 Can. d.amahāros.ana Tantra (Gtum po dpa’
blessings (byin rlabs), 10, 12, 16, 17, 32 gcig gi rgyud), 171, 185 (n. 25)
(n. 28), 72, 179, 194, 207, 210, 211, Candrakı̄rti, 91–93, 95–98, 101 (n. 22).
216–217, 227, 236, 243–244 (n. 6), See also Pradı̄poddyotana
253, 255, 256, 257. See also rituals: Catalogue of the Collection of Tantras
benediction (Rgyud ‘bum gyi dkar chag), 80
Blue Calf’s Nipple (Be’u bum sngon po), Catus.pı̄t.ha tantras, 81, 88 (n. 36)
166. See also Dölpa Sherab Gyatso ceremonial scarves (kha btags, Mong.
Bodhgaya, 251 khadag), 230, 232, 233, 253, 255
bodhicitta, 102 (n. 38), 117, 194, 197, 209 Chagna Dorjé (Phyag na do rje). See
Bogd Khan Mountain, 236, 237, Vajrapāni
240–242, 243, 247 (n. 63) cham (‘cham/s). See dance
Bön (Bon), 2–5, 9, 10, 15, 25–27, 28, chant leader (dbu mdzad), 18
53–68, 71, 76, 85 (n. 21), 104, 108, 121, chanted melodies (dbyangs), 14
125, 151, 157 (n. 23), 187–203, 204, (n. ché (dpyad). See “diagnosis”
6–7), 205 (n. 14, n. 16–17, n.19); New China, 7, 23, 24, 31 (n. 16), 56, 81, 82,
Treasures (Gter gsar), 193, 196, 197, 141, 153, 165, 170, 181 (n. 2), 185–186
202, 205 (n. 16); ransom rites, 104, (n. 35), 192; Chinese Buddhist
197; relation to Buddhism, 197, Canons, 192
202–203. See also Kangyur: Bonpo Chinngis Khan, 217, 242, 248 (n. 74)
Kangyur, Tengyur: Bonpo Tengyur, choga (cho ga), 13, 14, 18, 28, 29 (n.2–3),
local priest, shen, and Yeshé 31 (n. 21), 31–32 (n. 23), 32 (n. 25), 97;
monastery definitions of, 14, 32 (n. 25); etymology
Brahma, 106, 113 of, 31 (n. 22); and the exoteric–esoteric
Brahmaputra (Gtsang po) River, 140, distinction, 14; Sanskrit equivalents of,
147, 156 (n. 14–15, n. 18), 158 (n. 33), 31–32 (n. 21–23, 25). See also ritual
159 (n. 38, n. 40), 160 (n. 50, n. 52–53), Choiriin Bogd Mountain, 240, 241–242,
161 (n. 72), 162 (n. 84) 243, 248 (n. 72)
bricolage, 40, 51 (n. 22), 78 Chongkor (Chos ‘khor) village, 18, 25,
Buddha(s), 2, 3, 7, 10, 14, 24, 45, 79, 36–48
87, 105, 115, 118, 120, 166, 174, Chö (Gcod). See Severance
186 (n. 37), 192, 197, 210–215, 217, chöpa (mchod pa). See offering
221, 227, 241, 245, 247, 248, 257. Chung Rinpoché Ngawang Pekar
See also Five Wisdom Buddhas, (Chung rin po che Ngag dbang pad
Medicine Buddha, tathāgata dkar, b. 17th century), 250
Butön Rinchen Drub (Bu ston Rin Cintā, 81
chen grub, 1290–1364), 80, circumambulation (skor ba), 13, 32 (n. 24),
94, 96, 99–100 (n. 8), 100–101 192, 211, 219, 232, 254, 255, 258
(n. 13), 101–102 (n. 24), 102 cittamātra. See mind-only
(n. 35), 209 collected ritual actions (las tshogs), 18, 33
(n. 34–35)
cairn (la rtse, Mong. ovoo), 229–234, 237, Collected Tantras of the Nyingma (Rnying
239, 245 (n. 23, n. 35), 247 (n. 55, n.59), ma rgyud ‘bum, abbrev. NGB), 71, 73,
259. See also offering: to ovoo 75, 78–81, 83 (n. 3, n. 5–6), 84 (n. 8),
caitya, 211, 221 (n. 16) 86–87 (n. 28), 87–88 (n. 32),
Cakrasam . vara, 2, 7, 247 (n. 60); his “Soul 88 (n. 33), 99 (n. 8), 171, 172, 185
Mountain” (Bde mchog bla ri), 7 (n. 27–28)
 index 293

compendiums of rituals, 18, 19, 27, demons, 4, 14, 20, 22, 111, 114, 119, 120,
33 (n.34). See also collected ritual actions, 125 (n. 35), 168–171, 176, 177, 181,
cycles of ritual, and tantric ritual 184 (n. 20), 185–186 (n. 35), 191, 193,
completion stage (rdzogs rim), 95, 195, 197, 199, 234, 242, 246 (n. 42).
100 (n. 12), 101 (n. 15) See also dön, dré, si, spirits
cosmology, 3–10 Derge (Sde dge), 201, 250, 259
creation stage (bskyed rim), 90, 93, 94, Dharamsala, 7
95, 97, 100 (n. 12–13), 101–102 (n. 24), dhāran. ı̄, 77, 78, 81, 86 (n. 25), 107, 170,
199 172, 209, 218, 220, 229, 236. See also
cycles of ritual (skor), 2, 4, 18, 26, 27, Sangdui
⁄
33 (n. 38), 40, 41, 187, 190, 193–196, Dharma Srı̄ (1654–1718), 75, 85 (n. 18),
202, 203, 204 (n. 2), 205 (n. 21) 157 (n. 19), 163 (n. 100)
“diagnosis” (dpyad), 54, 64
dag kyé (bdag bskyed). See generating Dilgo Khyentsé (Dil mgo Mkhyen brtse),
oneself as a deity 75, 86 (n. 25)
Dagpo (Dwags po), 249, 250 Dı̄ptacakra, 74, 84 (n. 13)
Dalai Lama: Third, 147, 160 (n. 65), 161 divination (mo), 31 (n. 22), 34 (n. 41),
(n. 81); Fifth, 54, 155 (n. 6), 160 (n. 66), 54, 64, 114, 167, 179, 185 (n. 29),
161 (n. 77); Fourteenth, 1, 2, 7, 10, 200, 201, 219–220, 224 (n. 41–42),
29, 32 (n. 26), 251, 257, 261 (n. 9), 229
262 (n. 16). divine eye (lha’i mig), 4, 214
Dārikapāda, 81 diviner, 20, 21, 34 (n. 41)
dam-ngag (gdams ngag). See instructions Dölpa Sherab Gyatso (Dol pa Shes rab
dance (gar, ‘cham/s), 3, 14 rgya mtsho, 1059–1131), 166. See also
Davagjaltsan (Güüsh Girdi Duaz), Blue Calf’s Nipple
210. See also Explanation of the dön (gdon) spirits, 104, 108–111, 119, 121,
Vajracchedikā 125 (n. 34–35)
death: causes of, 109–111; impending, Dorje Dermo (Rdo rje sder mo), 77–78,
104, 109, 112, 121–122 (n. 2); 85 (n. 24), 86 (n. 25)
prognostication of, 113–114, 121; Dorje Drag (Rdo rje brag) Monastery, 250
reversible vs. irreversible, 112–114; Dorje Purba (Rdo rje phur ba), 70,
signs of, 105, 106, 112–114, 115, 72, 85 (n. 21), 88 (n. 34); female
126 (n. 42); untimely, 103, 104, 105, protectresses of, 77; literature, 72–75,
119, 121. See also Lord of Death, rituals: 77, 85 (n. 21); mé-lé (smad las) rite, 74;
death-deceiving, spirits: malevolent, Purchen (Phur chen) rites, 75; rituals,
and Tibetan Book of the Dead 72–73, 74, 79, 200, 202, 205 (n. 21);
dedication of merit (bsngo ba), 16 tantras 72, 73, 81, 83 (n. 3, n. 5). See also
Deceiving Death (‘Chi ba bslu ba, Skt. Vajrakı̄la
Mr. tyus..thāpaka), 104, 107, 122 (n. 3–4). Dorje Yüdrönma (Rdo rje g.yu sgron
See also rituals: death-deceiving, and ma), 7
Tathāgataraks.ita Drapchi (Grwa bzhi) Temple, 2, 7
deities. See female deities, generating dré (‘dre) spirits, 4, 20, 120, 191
oneself as a deity, gods, lake deities, dreams, 113–114, 120, 126 (n. 50), 133,
lha, local deities, mountain deities, 139, 141–145, 152, 153, 160 (n. 51), 213,
protector deities, sādhana, site 222 (n. 27), 251, 252; interpretation of,
spirits, spirits, tutelary deities, and 133, 138, 144
visualization Drenpa Namkha (Dran pa nam mkha’,
deity yoga. See generating oneself as the 9th century), 193, 194
deity, and sādhana Drepung (‘Bras spungs) Monastery, 145,
Demchog Lari (Bde mchog bla ri), 7 147, 160 (n. 65), 250
294 index

Drigung Til (‘Bri gung mthil) Monastery, female deities, 75, 76, 77; subduing of,
141, 142, 149, 156 (n. 17), 159 (n. 37), 75, 77, 85 (n. 18)
162 (n. 88) festival (dus chen): of the Buddha, 2, 3;
Drönsel (Sgron gsal). See Pradı̄poddyotana commemorating Tönpa Shenrab, 2;
drubtab (sgrub thabs). See sādhana “Ganden Feast of the Twenty-Fifth,” 3;
Drug Ralung (‘Brug Rwa lung) of the New Year, 2
Monastery, 249, 258 Five Wisdom Buddhas, 118, 128 (n. 68)
Drugpa (‘Brug pa), 249, 260, 261 (n. 7) Five Works of Maitreya (Byams chos sde
Dujom Rinpoché (Bdud ‘joms rin po che lnga), 92
‘Jigs bral ye shes rdo rje, 1904–1987), Foming Jing (Scriptures of the Names of the
75, 77, 79, 84 (n. 15), 127 (n. 59, Buddhas), 192, 205 (n. 11)
n. 61–62), 156, (n. 14, n. 18), 255, 258 Frazer, James, 169, 183–184 (n. 16)
Dunhuang, 26, 56; manuscripts, 26, “four actions” (las bzhi), 4, 108, 168, 170,
31 (n. 22), 54–60, 68 (n. 28), 83 (n. 8), 174, 175, 185 (n. 32)
86–87 (n. 28), 87 (n. 32), 99 (n. 8), 165; four immeasurables, 117, 139 (n. 65), 214
Purba texts, 72–75; Tibetan Mahāyoga
texts, 69–82 Ganden Ngamchö (Dga’ ldan lnga
düchen (dus chen). See festival mchod), 3
Dung-kyong Karpo (Dung skyong dkar Ganden Potrang (Dga’ ldan pho brang),
po), 241, 248 (n. 70) 145, 147, 154 (n. 4)
düzang (dus bzang). See auspicious days Gang-gi yumchen dorje yubunma (Gangs
for ritual activity kyi yum chen rdo rje g.yu bun ma), 7
Dzogchen (Rdzogs chen) Monastery, gar (gar). See dance
250 Garland of Essential Instructions (Man
dzogrim (rdzogs rim). See completion stage ngag lta ‘phreng), 79, 87 (n. 29)
Garud.a (Khyung), 189, 192, 194, 195,
eastern Tibet, 7, 27. See also Amdo, and 196, 198, 199, 203
Kham Gelugpa (Dge lugs pa), 94, 98, 155 (n. 6),
effigies (ngar mi, ‘dra gzugs, ling ga, 250, 258
Mong. ongod), 12, 20, 45–47, 48, 52 (n. generating oneself as a deity (bdag
26), 74, 84 (n. 9), 105, 107–108, bskyed), 15, 18, 90, 107, 198, 199
115–116, 119–120, 121, 124 (n. 23), Gesar (Ge sar) epic, 169, 184 (n. 20)
137, 140, 143, 147, 151, 157, (n. 23), Gewa Bum (Dge ba ‘bum, b. 12th
158 (n. 29), 160 (n. 58), 169, 174, 184 century), 135, 139, 140, 156 (n. 15)
(n. 17–18), 227, 228, 229, 230; gods: categories of 4, 5, 111, 125 (n. 35),
Ekajātā/ı̄, 10 191, 197; pantheon of, 3–10, 28,
elite traditions, 5, 6, 10, 11, 19–25, 28, 34 30 (n. 6), 54, 188, 226, 227, 233, 235,
(n. 44), 41; elite–popular distinction, 237, 247 (n. 66), 248 (n. 74); peaceful
19–20, 22, 23, 34 (n. 44), 37, 50 (n. 10) vs. wrathful, 5, 112; supramundane vs.
empowerment (dbang, Skt. abhiśeka), 14, mundane, 5, 111; translocal vs. local, 7,
15–19, 32 (n. 30), 33 (n.31; n. 36), 43, 226–230; tutelary deities vs. protectors,
192, 194, 196, 257. See also permission 5. See also female deities, lake deities,
ritual lha, local deities, mountain deities,
emptiness, 90–91, 93–95, 97, 102 (n. protector deities, site spirits, spirits,
38), 117, 118, 167, 210–212, 241, 242. and tutelary deities
See also no self gom (sgom). See meditation
Etüken (Mother Earth), 217 Great Storehouse of Precious Treasures (Rin
Explanation of the Vajracchedikā, 210–12, chen gter mdzod chen mo), 19, 33 (n. 36,
221 (n. 14) 39), 109, 136, 157 (n. 21–22), 158 (n. 25,
ezen. See site spirit n. 31). See also Jamgön Kongtrül
 index 295

Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path to 187, 200, 203, 216–220, 222 (n. 23,
Enlightenment (Lam rim chen mo), 110, n. 27), 228, 234, 240, 241, 256. See also
124 (n. 31) healing, medicine, Medicine Buddha,
Guhyagarbha Tantra, 78, 83–84 (n. 8) and rituals: for healing
Guhyasamāja Tantra, 15, 26, 75, 77, Indra, 210
80, 85 (n. 24), 87 (n. 32), 88 (n. 33), initiation. See empowerment, and
89–102, 210–212; as a talisman, permission rituals
211–212. See also Pin. d.ı̄-krama-sādhana, instructions (gdams ngag), 18. See also
Pradı̄poddyotana, Ratnavālı̄, and practice instructions
Samāja-sādhana-vyavasthāli Instructions on Deceiving Death
(Chi ba blu ba’i man ngag, Skt.
hand gestures (phyag rgya). See mudrās Mr. tyuvañcanopadeśa), 104, 105–107,
Hayagrı̄va, 6, 10, 27, 33 (n. 35), 54, 137; 113, 122 (n. 4), 123 (n. 11–19).
Bönpo deity Tamdrin, 187–203; his 124 (n. 20–22), 125 (n. 36),
ritual cycle (skor), 187, 193–196, 126 (n. 46–47, n. 49). See also
204 (n. 2). See also rituals: of the rituals: death-deceiving
“burning stones,” and Yeshé Monastery Islam, 25, 35
healing and healers, 20, 103, 104, 109,
111, 113, 119, 135, 139, 156 (n. 14), Jamgön Kongtrül (‘Jam mgon kong sprul,
200, 202, 203, 218–219, 220, 229, 1813–99), 19, 21, 33 (n. 36), 74,
246 (n. 38). See also illness, medicine, 84 (n. 11–12), 84 (n. 17), 109,
Medicine Buddha, protection, and 157 (n. 21–22), 158 (n. 25, n. 31)
rituals: for healing Jamgön Ngawang Gyeltsen (Byams mgon
Heart Sūtra (Prajñāpāramitā-hr. daya- ngag dbang rgyal mtshan, 1647–1732),
sūtra): liturgy for repelling demons 250
(Sher snying bdud bzlog), 14, 150; Jātaka, 166
protective rites of, 218, 220 jenang (rjes gnang). See permission ritual
Heruka, 74, 107, 119, 227 Jebtsundamba, the Eighth (Rje btsun
Hevajra Tantra, 99 (n. 8) dam pa, 1870–1924), 218, 219,
history (lo rgyus), 18, 133–134, 154, 223 (n. 33)
156 (n. 10), 163 (n. 106) Jewel Source: The Sādhanas of an Ocean of
History of How the Mongols Were Turned Deities (Yi dam rgya mtsho’i sgrub thabs
Back (Sog bzlog bgyis tshul gyi lo rgyus), rin chen ‘byung gnas), 19, 33 (n.38)
132–134, 136, 137, 140, 143, 146, Jiaosiluo, 82, 88 (n. 37)
152–154, 156 (n. 11, n. 17), 158 (n. 27, jindag (sbyin bdag). See patrons
n. 30, n. 32), 159 (n. 34), 160 (n. 54–61, jinlab (byin rlabs). See blessings
n. 64–66), 161 (n. 71), 162 (n. 82, Jokhang (Jo khang), 166, 255, 257, 258, 259
n. 85, n. 94–95), 163 (n. 99). See also Jonang (Jo nang), 132, 155 (n. 6)
Sogdogpa Lodrö Gyaltsen Jowo (Jo bo) statue, 255, 257
Hor, 142, 148, 158 (n. 32) Ju Mipam (‘Ju Mi pham, 1846–1912), 27,
hri. See si spirits 34 (n. 44), 114, 126 (n. 51), 165, 167,
Huber, Toni, 235, 237, 246 (n. 51), 168, 170, 171–173, 175, 182 (n. 11),
247 (n. 60), 249, 252, 260 (n. 1), 183 (n. 12), 185 (n. 28–29). See also
261 (n. 10, n. 14–15) Calf ‘s Nipple
Humphrey, Caroline, 233, 234, 237,
244 (n. 8), 245 (n. 37), 246 (n. 38–47), Kadampa (Bka’gdams pa), 166
247 (n. 58) Kālacakra (Dus ‘khor), 14
Kālacakra Tantra, 32 (n. 26, n. 30), 113,
illness, 10, 20, 21, 104, 105, 107, 108–111, 126 (n. 45)
115, 117, 119, 120, 125 (n. 35), 127 (n. 56), Kamalaśı̄la, 100–101 (n. 13)
296 index

Kangyur (Bka’ ‘gyur), 78, 79, 80, 81, la (bla). See soul
86 (n. 28), 87 (n. 32), 88 (n. 33, n. 36), lagyü (bla rgyud). See lineage of lasters,
208, 209; Bönpo Kangyur (Bon po and prayers: to the masters
Bka’ ‘gyur) 58, 60, 192, 204, (n. 6); lake deities, 7, 55, 111, 125 (n. 35),
Mongolian Kangyur, 209, 218, 223 184 (n. 20), 235, 236, 238, 242, 246
(n. 34) (n. 42), 248 (n. 71). See also gods, lha,
Kapstein, Matthew, 73, 81, 82, 87 (n. 29), local deities, lu, mountain deities, site
154 (n. 3) spirits, spirits, and protector deities
Kargyü (Bka’ brgyud), 132, 149, 155 (n. 6), Lamrim Yeshe Nyingpo (Lam rim ye shes
161 (n. 78), 163 (n. 98). See also Drugpa snying po), 75, 84 (n. 17)
karma, 10, 20, 27, 106, 109–111, 121, lama (bla ma), 43–44, 115, 132, 136, 137,
186 (n. 37), 217, 239; as a term for ritual, 148, 196, 198, 199, 200, 201, 234, 238,
170, 183. See also “four actions” 240, 241. See also lineage of masters
Karma Lingpa (Karma gling pa, lamrim (lam rim). See “stages of the path”
b. 14th century), 126 (n. 42) Lang Darma (Glang Dar ma), 82
Karma Puntsog Namgyal (Karma phun Lang Pelgi Sengé (Rlang Dpal gyi seng
tshog rnam rgyal, 1586–1632?), ge), 75–77, 85 (n. 18)
155 (n. 9), 162 (n. 95), 163 (n. 101) lari (bla ri). See soul mountain
Karma Tensung Wangpo (Karma Lasso of Methods (Thabs kyi zhags pa),
bstan srung dbang po, d. 1611?), 26, 69, 70, 72, 78–81, 83 (n. 3), 86–87
155 (n. 9), 162 (n. 83, n. 95), (n. 28), 87 (n. 29, n. 31), 88 (n. 33)
163 (n. 97) léjor (las sbyor), 170. See also magic
Karmapa Wangchug Dorje (Dbang phyug letsog (las tshogs). See collected ritual
rdo rje, 1556–1603), 149, 150 actions
Karmay, Samten, 71, 76, 85 (n. 19, n. 21), lha, 4, 15, 16, 30 (n. 8), 45, 56, 60–63,
196, 204 (n. 1, n. 7), 205 (n. 15–17), 68 (n. 25), 191. See also female deities,
235, 246 (n. 48–50), 247 (n. 60), gods, local deities, mountain deities,
261 (n. 11) protector deities, site spirits, spirits,
Kathmandu, 38, 250 and tutelary deities
Katog (Kah.thog) Monastery, 250 lhabön (lha bon). See local priest
Kha Barma Nagpo (Kha ‘bar ma nag po), Lhabtsün Rinchen Gyatso (Lha btsun Rin
120 chen rgya mtsho, 14th century), 166,
Kham (Khams), 193, 249, 250, 251, 252, 182 (n. 6)
259, 260 Lhasa (Lha sa), 1, 2, 7, 8, 9, 29 (n. 4), 165,
Kharag (Kha rag) Monastery, 193, 201, 175, 250–252, 258, 259. See also Barkor,
203 Jokhang, Jowo, Norbu Lingkha, Potala,
Khatan, 142, 143, 149, 150 and Ramoche
Khedrubjé (Mkhas grub Dge legs dpal Lhodrag (Lho brag), 249, 258
bzang, 1385–1438), 96, 102 (n. 36) life force (srog), 10, 103, 111, 116, 120,
Khentii Khan Mountain, 236, 240, 127 (n. 60), 216, 222 (n. 25, n. 27)
242–243, 248 (n. 74) lineage of lasters (bla rgyud), 42–43.
Khyichu (Skyid chu) River, 1 See also prayers: to the masters
Khyung. See Garud.a liturgies, 2, 3, 4, 12, 14, 15, 17, 18, 22, 25,
Kongpo (Kong po), 249, 258, 260 29 (n. 3), 35, 36, 38, 45, 46, 48, 49, 75,
kor (skor). See cycles of ritual 77, 195, 257. See also choga, rituals, and
kora (skor ba). See circumambulation tantric ritual
Kr. s.n.a Nāgārjuna (Klu sgrub nag po), local deities (yul lha), 7, 56, 59, 67 (n. 9),
105 77, 85 (n. 21), 225, 226, 229, 230, 231,
kyerim (bskyed rim). See creation stage 232, 233–239, 242, 243, 246 (n. 47),
kyil khor (dkyil ‘khor). See man. d.ala 248 (n. 74). See also lake deities, lu,
 index 297

mountain deities, protector deities, site Mahāyoga: Tantras, 26, 70, 78, 81,
spirits, and spirits 86 (n. 28); texts and rituals, 69–82,
local priest (gshen/bon/lha bon), 55, 56, 85 (n. 20–21)
59, 64 Manchu emperors, 209, 237
lojong (blo sbyong). See “mental training” man. d.ala, 14, 15, 16, 30 (n. 5), 31 (n. 16),
Longchen Rabjampa (Klong chen rab 77, 79, 80, 87 (n. 30), 214, 235, 238,
‘byams pa Dri med ‘od zer, 247 (n. 60), 254; of colored sands
1308–1364), 114 (rdul tshon), 14; of the five elements,
Long-Life Goddesses (Tshe ring ma), 7 115, 116; mandalization, 247 (n. 60),
Lord of Death (gshin rje/‘chi bdag), 106, 254. See also offering: of the entire
107, 111, 115, 119–120, 210. See also universe, and visualization
death, rituals: death-deceiving, and Man. ibhadra-yaks.asena-kalpa (Gnod sbyin
Tibetan Book of the Dead nor bu bzang po’i rtog pa), 171,
lorgyü (bla rgyud). See lineage of masters, 185 (n. 26)
and prayers: to the masters mantra, 2, 13, 30 (n. 5), 32 (n. 30),
Loter Wangpo (Blo gter dbang po, 33 (n. 33), 39, 74, 85 (n. 24),
1847–1914), 111, 125 (n. 37–38), 126 86 (n. 25), 90, 91, 93, 97, 104, 105,
(n. 53), 127 (n. 58) 106, 107, 110, 118, 120, 121, 123 (n. 9),
lu (klu, Skt. nāga), 4, 53, 55, 60, 61, 62, 127 (n. 56), 170, 174, 177, 185 (n. 35),
63, 111, 125 (n. 35), 194, 195, 196, 197, 188, 191, 194, 196, 197, 198, 199, 203,
200, 235, 237, 247 (n. 55). See also lake 217, 218, 219, 223 (n. 29, n. 32), 227,
deities, local deities, site site spirits 241, 242. See also Aparamitāyurjñāna
lungta (lung rta). See prayer flags Sūtra, Avalokiteśvara, and Tārā
Mañjuśrı̄, 10. See also Yamāntaka
Machen Pomra (Rma chen spom ra), Mañjuśrı̄mitra, 72
7, 56 Mapang Yutso (Ma pang g.yu mtsho), 59
Mādhyamika, 92, 94, 95, 100–101 (n. 13), medicine, 103, 105, 106; diagnoses,
167; Prāsan.gika, 95–97 111; medical texts, 106, 183 (n. 12),
magic, 6, 18, 21, 22, 27, 31 (n. 22), 213, 218; medicinal substances, 106,
32 (n. 27), 33 (n. 31), 34 (n. 44), 167, 110, 166, 239. See also healing, illness,
168–172, 174, 181, 183–184 (n. 16); Medicine Buddha, and rituals: for
black magic (ngan sngags), 20, 22, 143, healing
160 (n. 58), 172, 185 (n. 32), 185–186 Medicine Buddha sūtra ritual (Sman bla’i
(n. 35); magical rites, 175–181; mdo chog), 2, 14
magical substances, 137, 174; magical meditation (sgom), 3, 90–92, 95, 97,
uses of text, 36; magic vs. sorcery, 98–99 (n. 3), 104, 106, 107, 118, 121,
174–175; magical weapons, 137, 151; 123 (n. 9), 124 (n. 21), 196, 197, 198;
and pragmatic rituals, 20–22. See also on emptiness, 90, 93–94, 95,
sorcery 102 (n. 38), 117; fourfold Yogācāra,
Magsar Pan.d.ita (Mag gsar Pan.d.ita 92–93, 94, 95, 97, 100–101 (n. 13), 102
Kun bzang stobs ldan dbang po, (n. 32).
1781–1828), 73, 78, 83 (n. 7) “mental training” (blo sbyong), 166,
Mahābhārata, 189 182 (n. 5)
Mahākāla Tantra (Nag po chen po’i rgyud), Mergen Diyanchi (1717–66), 229–230
171, 184 (n. 24) merit, 2, 20, 28, 103, 105, 109–110, 121,
Mahāmāyūrı̄ Sūtra, 192, 204 (n. 10) 137, 139, 152, 160 (n. 65), 168, 171, 178,
Mahāyāna, 2, 10, 22, 28, 79, 80, 81; 181, 212, 216, 240, 251, 253, 257.
Mahāyāna precept ritual (theg chen gso See also dedciation of merit
sbyong), 2; Mahāyāna sūtras as tutelary Milarepa (Rje btsun Mi la ras pa,
deities, 207, 210, 215, 217–218, 220 1052–1135), 3
298 index

mind-only (sems tsam, Skt. cittamātra), Nebesky–Wojkowitz, René de, 154 (n. 2,
92–94, 96, 102 (n. 32) n. 4), 157 (n. 23), 158 (n. 28),
Mindröl Ling (Smin grol gling) 185 (n. 29), 186 (n. 35)
Monastery, 249, 258, 261 (n. 12) nekhor (gnas skor). See pilgrimage
Mipam. See Ju Mipam Nepal, 25, 27, 28, 35, 36, 39, 82, 153,
Mirror Illuminating the Royal Genealogies 159 (n. 35, n. 42, n. 45), 251, 253
(Rgyal rabs gsal ba’i me long), 165, neri (gnas ri) sites, 235, 236, 237, 243
181 (n. 1), 182 (n. 3). See also Sönam New Translation (Gsar ma) period, 69,
Gyaltsen 80, 81, 88 (n. 36)
mo. See diviniation. Neyichi Toyin (1577–1653), 228, 229, 230,
monastic confession ritual (gso sbyong), 2, 244 (n. 21–22)
32 (n. 28), 197 ngagpa (sngags pa). See tantric priest
Mongolia, 1, 8, 14, 27, 28, 147, Ngog Lotsāwa Londen Sherab (Rngog lo
160 (n. 65), 161 (n. 77, n. 81); tsā ba Blo ldan shes rab, 1095–1109),
conversion to Buddhism, 28, 226, 238, 120, 129 (n. 73–75)
239, 243; indigenous sūtra tradition in, ngowa (bsngo ba). See dedication of
213; Mongol armies, 131–132, 134–138, merit
140–153, 155 (n. 9), 156 (n. 17), no self (bdag med), 10. See also emptiness
160 (n. 64–65); ritual worship of sūtras Norbu Lingkha (Nor bu gling kha), 258
in, 207–224; veneration of mountains Nyagrong (Nyag rong), 27, 187, 201, 203
in, 225–243 nyen (gnyan) spirits, 4, 5, 15, 26, 55, 56,
mountain deities, 7, 8, 28, 53, 54, 55, 56, 59, 60–65, 125 (n. 35), 196; conflict of
63, 64, 111, 125 (n. 35), 222 (n. 20), Man with, 59
226, 229, 230–233, 235–243, Nyenbum (Gnyan ‘bum). See Precious
245 (n. 35), 246 (n. 42), 247 (n. 54, n. 60, Collection of the Nyen
n. 63), 248 (n. 74). See also mountains, Nyingma (Rnying ma), 15, 19, 27,
and rituals: veneration of mountains 34 (n. 44), 71, 72, 74, 76, 78, 81, 86–87
mountains, 56, 58, 59, 191, 236, 237, (n. 28), 132, 155 (n. 6), 167, 186 (n. 35),
238, 240–243, 247 (n. 54, n. 61, 190, 193, 195, 203, 249, 252; Mahāyoga
n. 63), 248 (n. 72, n. 74), 250. literature, 69–82, 85 (n. 21); rituals, 75,
See also mountain deities, neri, and 76, 85 (n. 21).
ritual: veneration of mountains Nyingma Gyubum. See Collected Tantras
mudrās (hand gestures), 14, 30 (n. 5), 106, of the Nyingma
118, 121, 123 (n. 9), 128 (n. 68), 171,
189, 229, 241, 242 obstacle (bar chad), 103, 109–111, 119, 121,
Mu-lé-hé (Mu le had) Lake, 58, 59 176–177, 217, 240, 254
Mustang, 35, 36, 159 (n. 42) Ochiroor Ogtlogch. See Vajracchedikā
myths, 76, 77, 78, 85 (n. 21); in Bön, offering (mchod pa), 1, 3, 6, 16, 17, 18,
53–65, 71; charter myth, 71, 76, 82, 20, 30 (n. 5), 33 (n. 32), 77, 104, 107,
85 (n. 20–21) 109, 115, 117, 119, 194, 195, 197, 198,
199, 223, 250, 255, 256, 257, 258; of
nāga. See lu baths (khrus gsol), 117, 118; to Buddhas
Nāgabuddhi, 90, 99 (n. 7) and Bodhisattvas, 118–119; burnt-
Nāgārjuna, 89, 91, 92, 96, 97, 100–101 offerings (sbyin sreg), 1, 2, 16, 18, 29
(n. 13), 101 (n. 15), 102 (n. 38), 208. (n.1), 79, 106, 137, 140, 143, 151, 196,
See also Pin. d.ı̄-krama-sādhana 197; of butter-lamps, 118, 119, 255;
Namchö Mingyur Dorje (gNam chos mi to cairns (ovoo), 230, 231, 232, 237;
‘gyur rdo rje, 1645–1667), 114, classification of, 17; to deities, 1, 2, 16,
126 (n. 50), 171 17, 29, (n. 3), 108, 236, 238–240,
Namkhai Norbu, 104, 105, 123 (n. 8–10) 242, 245 (n. 35); of the entire universe
 index 299

(man. d.ala), 17, 115, 117, 119, 120; of guidebook (gnas yig), 251; as a ritual,
flowers, 118, 223 (n. 28), 255; of food, 249, 252–257, 260, 261 (n. 14–15)
1, 115, 118, 119, 223 (n. 31), 232; of gold, Pin. d.ı̄-krama-sādhana (Mdor byas sgrub
253, 255; of the harvest, 29 (n. 3); of thabs), 89, 93, 96, 97, 98 (n. 2),
incense (bsang mchod), 1, 28, 118, 219, 99 (n. 4–6), 100 (n. 13), 101 (n. 24),
220, 223 (n. 28), 226, 236–242, 247 (n. 102 (n. 38)
61), 247–248 (n. 68), 248 (n. 70, n. 73), Potala, 258, 259
253, 254; inner (nang mchod), 17, 197; practice instructions (khrid), 18
of jewels, 117, 253, 255; merit-making, Pradı̄poddyotana (Sgron gsal), 91–98,
109–110; of money, 253, 254, 255, 261 98 (n. 2), 100 (n. 13), 101 (n. 22,
(n. 11); to monks, 110, 220; outer (phyi’i n. 24)
mchod pa), 17; to protector deity, 1, 2, pragmatic rituals, 6, 19, 20–22, 207,
16, 195, 240–242; of ritual cakes torma 216, 226, 243; soteriological-pragmatic
(gtor ma), 1, 3, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 34 (n. distinction, 19, 21, 34 (n. 44)
43), 40, 115, 117, 126 (n. 55), 143, 187, praise (bstod pa), 16, 17, 29 (n. 3), 107,
188, 194, 197, 198, 199, 241, 248 (n. 119, 194, 195, 198, 199
70); to spirits, 119, 120; to sūtras, 208, prayer, 2, 18, 194, 195, 197, 199, 200,
210, 216, 217, 219, 223 (n. 28, n. 31). 251, 257, 259; for abundant harvest,
See also praise, prayer 29 (n.3); assembly (tshogs), 1; to the
Old Translation (Rnying ‘gyur) period, goddess Tāra, 21; for good fortune, 16;
88 (n. 36) for the long life of the Dalai Lama, 1; to
oracle, 4, 20, 30 (n. 7) the masters (bla ma’i gsol ‘debs), 12, 42,
Ortner, Sherry B., 47, 52 (n. 31, n. 33–34) 43, 44, 136, 137, 197, 198; for offering
Otgontenger Mountain, 236, 238–239, food, 1; requesting a spiritual master to
242, 243, 247 (n. 54, n. 61), 247 (n. 63) remain in the world (zhabs brtan), 112,
ovoo. See cairn 126 (n. 41); to Tsongkhapa, 231, 245
(n. 28)
Padmasambhava, 2, 7, 30 (n. 13), 54, 75, prayer flags (rlung rta), 29 (n. 1), 255,
77, 78, 79, 85 (n. 21), 134, 135, 138, 156 256
(n. 12), 156 (n. 18), 193, 195, 199, 205 Precious Collection of the Nyen (Rin po che
(n. 16), 231. See also Garland of Essential gnyan gyi ‘bum), 53, 58–67
Instructions The Precious Compendium: The Blazing
Palden Lhamo (Dpal ldan lha mo), 10, Sūtra Immaculate and Glorious (Dri
179 med gzi brjid), 191, 203, 204 (n. 6)
Pañcaraks.ā, 209 prophecy, 133, 134–135, 136, 138–143,
patrons (sbyin bdag) and patronage, 12, 144–149, 152, 153, 156 (n. 13, n. 16),
39, 45, 46, 77, 115, 133, 139, 146, 148, 158 (n. 26–27), 158 (n. 32), 162 (n. 88)
149, 150, 198, 200–202, 203, 205 protector deities (srung ma), 1, 2, 5, 6, 7,
(n. 21), 227 10, 16, 18, 30 (n. 12, n. 14), 40, 45, 115,
Pelpung (Dpal spungs) Monastery, 250 117, 120, 158 (n. 28), 166, 195, 196,
Pelyul (Dpal yul) Monastery, 250 197, 198, 230, 238, 240, 241, 242;
Pema Lingpa (Padma gling pa, propitiation of, 2, 6, 45, 193, 194, 195,
1450–1521), 135, 139, 156 (n. 16), 158 198, 200; vs. tutelary deities, 5. See also
(n. 27), 171. See also All-Illuminating local deities
Mirror prostration, 16, 192, 219, 254, 259, 260,
permission rituals (rjes gnang), 19, 32 261 (n. 17)
(n. 30) protection, 3, 10, 18, 21, 28, 103, 132, 148,
pilgrimage (gnas skor), 15, 24, 28, 103, 235, 155 (n. 5, n. 6), 171, 172, 176–178, 195,
249–260, 260 (n. 1), 261 (n. 14–15); 216–218, 226, 237, 256, 257
guide, 252, 253, 254, 255, 256; Purān.as, 189
300 index

Ramoche (Ra mo che), 258 ritual(s): to acquire wealth (g.yang ‘gugs),

rangjön (rang byon). See self-arisen image 5, 20; actual (dngos gzhi), 11, 16, 115,
ransom rituals. See ritual: to ransom lives 117–121, 198; of benediction, 216–217;
Rappaport, Roy A., 46, 48, 49, 52 (n. 29) of the “burning stones,” 12, 27,
Ratna Lingpa (Ratna gling pa, 1403–1478), 187–188, 189, 193, 194, 196, 197,
171 199–202, 203; concluding rites
Ratnasambhava, 118 (rjes chog, mjug gi bya ba), 16, 18; of
Ratnāvalı̄ (Rin chen phreng ba), 93, 97, confession (bskang bshags), 18; of
100–101 (n. 13), 101 (n. 19, n.24) consecration (rab gnas), 18, 117, 118,
relics, 235, 247, 254, 255 127 (n. 56), 127, (n. 63), 194, 195, 197,
Rematı̄, 10 198; for controlling weather, 3; to create
Request for the Deities to Depart (gshegs amulets, 19, 21, 255; to create magical
gsol), 16, 40 pills, 18, 19, 21, 255; daily commitments
revealed “treasures” (gter ma), 15, 75, (kha ‘don), 1; to deceive death (‘chi bslu),
84 (n. 15, n. 17), 85 (n. 21), 132, 134, 135, 15, 21, 26, 103–121, 121–122 (n. 2), 122
136, 146, 154 (n. 3), 156 (n. 16), 157 (n. 4), 125 (n. 36), 126 (n. 42, n. 53,
(n. 20), 158 (n. 27, n. 31), 190, 235. 127 (n. 57–58, n. 64), 128 (n. 67), 129
See also Bön: New Treasure, and (n. 73–75); to defeat enemies, 18; of
“treasure revealers” exorcism (zlog pa), 1, 15, 20, 27, 36, 40,
Rimé (Ris med), 252 41, 45, 47, 48, 104, 118, 131, 154 (n. 2),
Rinchen Drakpa (Rin chen grags pa, 158 (n. 29), 160 (n. 58), 227, 229, 244
1040–1112), 104 (n. 15–16); of fasting (smyung gnas),
Rinchen Terdzö Chenmo (Rin chen gter 2; feasts (tshogs), 76, 77, 85 (n. 21); for
mdzod chen mo). See Great Storehouse of fulfillment of wishes, 103; for healing,
Precious Treasures 21, 27, 28, 29 (n. 3), 31 (n. 22), 103, 171,
Rinchen Zangpo (Rin chen bzang po, 207, 212, 218–219, 220; to insure the
958–1055), 104, 122 (n. 4) efficacy of rituals, 16, 21; Islamic, 35, 36;
Rinpungpa (Rin spungs pa), 145, 147, for killing (bsad pa), 22, 173, 194, 195,
158 (n. 33) 196, 197; for “liberating” (sgrol ba), 74,
ritual cakes. See tormas 173, 174, 184 (n. 17), 185 (n. 34–35), 186
ritual calendar, 2, 3, 29 (n. 1–3), 45, 103, 237 (n. 37), 195; “liberation of the lives of
ritual costumes (chas), 14 animals” (‘tshe thar), 103, 105, 121 (n. 1);
ritual implements: bell (dril bu), 1, 14; for livestock, 3, 29 (n.3), 45; for making
“dagger” (phur pa), 70, 74; skull and of clay statuettes (tsha tsha), 105, 115,
skull cups, 107, 140, 143, 151, 152, 117–118, 127 (n. 56), 128 (n. 67, n. 69);
158 (n. 29), 160 (n. 58), 189; staff (khat. for merit-making, 2, 20, 28, 103; model
vān. ga), 107; vajra (rdo rje), 14, 189, 238, (dpe srol), 76, 85 (n. 21); for mundane
253, 256; vase (bum pa), 14, 16, 115, 194 goals, 21, 28, 54, 79, 175–181, 207, 208,
ritual manuals, 35–37, 39, 41–42, 48, 55, 228, 252; and myths, 4, 15, 26, 54–56;
73, 89, 90, 194, 195, 197, 198, 225, narrative, 17, 18, 75, 76, 85 (n. 20–21),
226–228, 234, 235, 236, 238–243, 247 236, 239, 243; preliminary/preparatory
(n. 61), 248 (n. 70, n. 72, n. 74) rites (sta gon, lhag gnas, sbyor ba), 15,
“ritual month” (cho ga zla ba), 29 (n. 2) 115–117; for prolonging life, 17, 18,
ritual space, 11, 197, 199, 215, 254, 258 103, 105, 109, 110, 112, 121, 151, 152,
ritual specialist, 4, 6, 14, 18, 36, 37, 38, 214; for purification, 103, 115, 117, 118,
103, 114, 117–120, 121, 131, 132, 134, 135, 194, 197, 199, 217, 218; for ransoming
136, 138, 143, 154, 154 (n. 4), 155 (n. 6), lives (glud), 20, 104, 121; related to
159 (n. 35), 170, 200–201, 226–230, agriculture, 3, 21, 29 (n.3); for removing
233, 234, 236, 238, 240–243, obstacles, 20, 103; for repaying karmic
244 (n. 8), 244–245 (n. 22) debt lenchag (lan chags), 20, 34 (n. 43),
 index 301

126 (n. 55); to repel armies (dmag Sangyé Lingpa (Sangs rgyas gling pa,
bzlog), 22, 27, 131–152, 154 (n. 4), 1340–1396), 139, 171
155 (n. 6), 156 (n. 12), 157 (n. 20–21) Sárközi, Alice, 223 (n. 33),
157–158 (n, 24); of scripture reading 224 (n. 39–40), 226–227, 243 (n. 1),
(chos klog), 13, 20–21; signs of success 244 (n. 10, n.12, n. 14–16)
of, 133, 138, 139, 141, 142, 143–144, 145, Sarma. See “New Translation” period
147, 151, 152, 153; site-rituals (sa chog), scriptures, 28, 72, 75, 78, 80, 88 (n. 36).
11, 15, 17; state ceremonies, 54, 132, 148, See also ritual: of scripture reading
154 (n. 4); substances, 107, 115, 116, 117, self-arisen image (rang byon), 7
188; to suppress evil spirits (mnan pa), Sera (Se ra) Monastery, 7, 190
45–48, 151, 173, 177, 179, 181, 185–186 Seven Perfections (phun sum tshogs pa
(n. 35); Tibetan words for, 31 (n. 21); of bdun) of the Dorje Purba cycle, 72–73,
transference of consciousness (‘pho ba), 78, 83 (n. 6)
21, 45, 113; using thread-crosses (mdos), Severance (Gcod), 202
20, 104, 105, 116, 121, 137, 141, 142, 157 Shaksöl (gshegs gsol). See Request for the
(n. 23); veneration of mountains, 7, 28, Deities to Depart
56, 225, 226, 230–233, 234, 235–243, shaman, 227, 233–234, 235, 238, 239,
245 (n. 35), 247 (n. 54, n. 60, n. 63), 243, 244–245 (n. 22), 246 (n. 38, n.
248 (n. 74); worship of Mahāyāna 41–42)
sūtras, 28, 207–220. See also choga, Shamanism, 28, 222 (n. 20), 225, 226–228,
compendiums of ritual, cycles of ritual, 233, 243, 244 (n. 8), 246 (n. 38)
effigy, liturgies, offerings, magic, Shamar Garwang Chöki Wangchug
pragmatic rituals, to ritual, ritual (Zhwa dmar Gar dbang Chos kyi
specialist, sorcery, sūtra rituals, tantric dbang phyug, 1584–1630), 149,
ritual, theories of ritual, Vinaya rituals, 150, 159 (n. 37), 162 (n. 89),
wrathful rites, and yé ritual. 163 (n. 102–103), 182 (n. 1)
Shardzé Trashi Gyaltsen (Shar rdzas bkra
sacrifice, 108, 121, 233, 237, 247 (n. 59) shis rgyal mtshan, 1858–1934),
sadag (sa bdag). See site spirits 67 (n. 9), 193, 205 (n. 19)
sādhana, 6, 18, 19, 21, 22, 33 (n. 36), 54, Shegsöl (gshegs gsol). See Request for the
75, 89, 93, 102 (n. 38), 203, 217, 226, Deities to Depart
236; and achieving proximity to the shen (gshen). See local priest
deity (bsnyen sgrub), 19, 21, 22, Shenchen Luga (Gshen chen Klu dga’,
33 (n. 36), 74 996–1035), 59
Sakya Pan.d.ita (Sa skya Pan.d.ita, Shen Sangwa Düpa (Gshen gsang ba ‘dus
1182–1251), 10 pa), 193, 205 (n. 14)
Sakya (Sa skya): Monastery, 142, 147, Shinjé (gshin rje). See Lord of Death
160 (n. 50); tradition, 75, 79, 84 (n. shung (gzhung), as the “main texts” of a
13), 86 (n. 28), 132, 155 (n. 6), 161 ritual cycle, 40
(n. 72) si (sri) spirits, 5, 20, 30 (n.8); exorcism of,
samādhi, 72, 83 (n. 4) 45–48
Samāja-sādhana-vyavasthāli (Rnam Sipé Gyalmo (Srid pa’i rgyal mo), 195, 198
gzhag rim pa), 90, 99 (n. 7). See also site spirits (gzhi bdag, sa bdag, Mong.
Nāgabuddhi ezen), 4, 11, 15, 17, 55, 56, 138 (n. 55),
Samantabhadra, 242, 248 (n. 73) 197, 231, 234, 235, 236, 238, 239, 241,
Samdrubtse (Bsam grub rtse), 145, 146, 247 (n. 66–67), 248 (n. 69, n. 73).
147, 153, 161 (n. 72), 162 (n. 95) See also lake deities, local deities, lu,
Samyé (Bsam yas) Monastery, 7, 82, 251, mountain deities, and spirits
252, 255, 258 Situ Penchen (Si tu Pan. chen Chos kyi
Sangdui (Gzungs bsdus), 209 ‘byung gnas, 1699/1700–1774), 104,
302 index

122 (n. 4), 123 (n. 7, n. 11), Summary of the Āyuh.sūtra, 216, 222 (n. 24)
162 (n. 86–87, n. 89), 163 (n. 101–102) Summary of the Noble
six original clans of Tibet (mi’u gdung Suvarn. aprabhāsottama-nāma-
drug), 59 mahāyānasūtra, 217, 223 (n. 30–320
Sixteen Arhats ritual (Gnas brtan bcu drug sungma (srung ma). See protector deities
gi cho ga), 14 supplication (gsol ba ‘debs pa), 17,
Smr. tijñānakı̄rti, 81, 88 (n. 36) 29 (n. 3), 136, 137
sog (srog). See life force Suvarn. aprabhāsottama Sūtra, 208,
Sogdogpa Lodrö Gyaltsen (Sog bzlog pa 209, 210, 217, 218, 219, 220, 221
Blo gros rgyal mtshan, 1552–1624), 27, (n. 5–10), 222 (n. 20), 223 (n. 33–34);
132–163. See also Gewa Bum, and History its history in Mongolia, 208–209.
of How the Mongols Were Turned Back See also Summary of the Noble Suvarn.
Sönam Gyaltsen (Bsod nams rgyal aprabhāsottama-nāma-mahāyānasūtra
mtshan, 1312–1375), 165, 182 (n. 3). sūtra rituals, 2, 14, 28, 32 (n. 28),
See also Mirror Illuminating the Royal 207–220
Genealogies Sūtra that Explains the Benefits of the
Songtsen Gampo (Srong btsan sgam po, Vajracchedikā, 209–210, 211, 212–213,
7th century), 134, 140, 166, 255 221 (n. 12–13, n. 17), 222 (n. 22)
⁄
sojong (gso sbyong). See monastic Sāntaraks.ita, 82, 100–101 (n. 13)
⁄
confession ritual Sāntipa (Ratnākaraśānti), 93, 97, 99–100
söldeb (gsol ‘debs). See supplication (n. 8), 100–101 (n. 13), 101 (n. 18–19,
sorcery, 6, 22, 48, 134, 140, 141, 145, 146, n. 24). See also Ratnāvalı̄
148, 152, 154, 167, 172, 173, 174–175,
185–186 (n. 35), 193. See also magic Tabzhag (Thabs zhags). See Lasso of
soul (bla), 8, 10, 59, 63, 64, 65, 111, 169, Methods
184 (n. 20), 191, 235, Tachö Rinchen Nyugu (Mtha’ gcod rin chen
soul mountain (bla ri), 7, 169, 235 myu gu), 95–96
spells, 136, 148, 167, 170–175, 229 Taglung (Stag lung), 141, 142
spirits, 60–65, 68 (n. 26), 111, 194, 197; Tambiah, Stanley, 36, 49 (n. 2), 50 (n. 7,
ancestral, 59, 228, 239, 246 (n. 41, n. 9), 169, 183 (n. 16), 184 (n. 19, n. 21)
n. 47); attack by (phyugs glud), 29 (n. 3), Tamdrin (Rta mgrin). See Hayagrı̄va
108, 195; categories of, 5, 111, 125 Tantra, 15, 18, 19, 26, 32 (n. 26, n. 30), 33,
(n. 35), 191, 195; channeling of (lha phab (n.34), 94, 208, 213, 218, 223 (n. 34);
pa), 34 (n. 41); colors of, 5; indigenous, Carya, 81; hermeneutics of, 91–92, 95,
8; malevolent, 104, 105, 107, 111, 113, 118, 100 (n. 10, n. 12); Kriyā, 81; “highest
119–120, 125 (n. 35), 187, 191, 195, 197, yoga,” 15; Yogatantra, 81; Yoginı̄ /
200, 201, 226, 227; ongon, 228, 234, 246 Yoganiruttara, 81;
(n. 41, n. 47); subjugation of, 77, 85 (n. Tantra of the Perfections of Enlightened
21), 137, 191, 193, 195, 196, 230, 242. See Activity (‘Phrin las phun sum tshogs pa’i
also demons, dön, dré, gods, lha, nyen, rgyud), 73, 78
offering, si, and site spirits tantric priest (sngags pa), 18, 29, 37,
“stages of the path” (lam rim), 166, 42, 43, 48, 49, 51 (n. 18); patrilineal
182 (n. 5) succession of, 37, 42
Stein, Rolf Alfred, 53, 56, 68 (n. 15), tantric ritual, 2, 14–18, 19, 28, 226,
155 (n. 7), 158 (n. 32), 166, 182 (n. 4–5), 229, 236, 244 (n. 22); continuity and
184 (n. 17) change in, 69–72, 77–78, 82; goals
stūpa, 105, 107, 115, 118, 141, 143, 148, 149, of, 103, 226; modular elements of,
150, 211, 220, 222 (n. 20) 14–18; organization of the corpus of,
Sukhāvatı̄, 210 18–20; recombination of parts of,
Sumeru, 238 77–78; relation to canonical texts,
 index 303

15, 35, 46, 48, 49, 52 (n. 29). See also Theories” of, 12; and literate vs. oral
choga, compendiums of rituals, cycles disctinction, 35, 38, 50 (n. 13), 51 (n. 15,
of ritual, empowerment, generating n. 17); and magic, 168–169; ritual
oneself as the deity, liturgies, rituals, studies 22–25; of social integration, 11;
sādhana, and shung structuralist, 11, 12: and taxonomy of
Taoism, 192, 205 (n. 12) rituals, 108
Tawog (Tha ‘og), 7 Three Jewels, 1, 152, 186 (n. 37), 214; taking
Tāranātha, 19, 163 (n. 101). See also Jewel refuge in the, 105, 117, 194, 197, 199,
Source Tibetan Book of the Dead, 109, 112, 113,
Tārā, 21, 106, 107; mantra, 106, 107; 124 (n. 26), 126 (n. 40, n. 42–44)
White, 111, 125 (n. 36) Timphu, 250, 261 (n. 17)
tathāgata, 89, 98 (n. 1), 125, 216, 241 Tisé (Ti se, Skt. Kailāsa) Mountain, 56,
Tathāgataraks.ita, 104, 107, 122 (n. 4), 59, 191
123 (n. 6). See also Deceiving Death, and to (gto) ritual, 4, 53–54, 55, 64
rituals: death-deceiving Togan Temür Khan, 208
Tenger (Father Sky), 217, 233, 236, Tönpa Shenrab (Ston pa gshen rab), 2,
243 (n. 6), 246 (n. 53); Tengerism, 217 64, 85 (n. 21), 191, 197, 198, 203
Tengyur (Bstan ‘gyur), 78, 86 (n. 27–28), töpa (bstod pa). See praise
94, 99–100 (n. 8), 101 (n. 17–18), 104, torma (gtor ma) ritual cakes, 1, 3, 16, 17,
105, 107, 122 (n. 3–4), 123 (n. 6), 18, 19, 20, 34 (n. 43), 40, 115, 117,
125 (n. 36); Bönpo Tengyur (Bon po 126 (n. 55), 143, 187, 188, 194, 197, 198,
Brten ‘gyur), 191, 192, 204 (n. 7), 205 199, 241, 248 (n. 70)
(n. 20) treasures (terma). See revealed treasures
Tenma (brtan ma) deities, 76, 77, “treasure revealers” (gter ston), 18, 135,
84 (n. 16), 85 (n. 18) 150, 156 (n. 13), 258
Terdag Lingpa (Gter bdag gling pa, tri (khrid). See practice instructions
1646–1714), 75, 85 (n. 18) Tri Relpachen (Khri Ral pa can), 82
terma (gter ma). See revealed “treasures” Tsang (Gtsang), 133, 144, 145, 146, 147,
tertön (gter ston). See “treasure revealers” 149, 152, 153, 156 (n. 14, n. 18), 158
texts, 22–25, 38; anthropological study of (n. 33), 159 (n. 44, n. 47), 160 (n. 50.
35–36, 49; classical, 25, 26; as deities, n. 52–53), 161 (n. 72–73), 162 (n. 92,
28, 207–220; doctrinal, 2–24; elite, n. 95), 163 (n. 96, 101), 252
5, 10, 19, 23; genres of, 12, 24, 27, 33 Tsang Desi (Gtsang sde srid), 131, 132,
(n. 34); “hybrid constructions” of, 153; 133, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 152, 153,
meaning of, and local practices, 36, 37, 155 (n. 9), 161 (n. 72), 162 (n. 89,
44, 47–48; of ritual manuals, 35–36, 37, n. 95), 163 (n. 97, n. 101, n. 103).
39, 41, 48; social economy of as written See also Karma Puntsog Namgyal,
document, 22, 23, 29 (n. 3), 35–36, Karma Tensung Wangpo, and Zhing
37, 39, 47, 50 (n. 5), 52 (n. 30); 36, 37, Shagpa Karma Tseten
39, 41–42. See also compendiums Tsari (Tsa ri) Mountain, 250
of rituals, cycles of ritual, liturgies, Tsedong (Rtse gdong), 147, 161 (n. 72, n. 76)
scriptures, shung, and Tantras Tsendü. See Aparamitāyurjñāna
theology, 10, 47 tsi (rtsis). See astrology
theories of ritual, 12, 13, 22–25; tsog (tshogs). See prayer assembly
“bottom-up” vs. “top-down” approach Tsongkhapa (Rje Tsong kha pa, 1357–1419),
to, 13; and “chiefly” vs. “shamanic” 3, 10, 95–96, 102 (n. 26–34), 110, 124
distinction, 233–234, 238; emic vs. (n. 31), 240, 245 (n. 28). See also prayers:
etic approaches to, 6, 9, 11, 13, 108; to Tsongkhapa
of “emplacement,” 11, 225–226; Tsultrim Chog-gyal (Tshul khrims mchog
functionalist, 11; “Grand Unified rgyal, d. ca. 1978), 192–193, 205 (n. 18)
304 index

Tucci, Giuseppe, 155 (n. 9), 160 (n. 62), 89, 90, 93, 97, 106, 107, 117, 194,
161 (n. 77, n. 81) 227, 239, 240–242; of evil spirits, 119.
Tus.ita, 210 See also generating oneself as a deity,
tutelary deities (yi dam), 5, 22, 38, 40, and sādhana
85 (n. 21), 105, 136, 137, 194, 207, 215,
217, 218, 220, 234, 238, 241, 242, 246 wang (dbang). See empowerment
(n. 53) wrathful rites (drag po’i las), 6, 20, 41, 45
Twenty-five Ways of Averting Armies (Dmag
bzlog nyer lnga), 132, 135, 136–137, 138, Yamāntaka, 7, 31 (n. 16), 137, 228;
147, 157 (n. 20–21). See also Zhigpo Mañjuśrı̄ Yamāntaka, 38, 41
Lingpa Yamāri/Yamāntaka Tantras (Gshin rje’i
gshed kyi rgyud), 172, 185 (n. 30)
Ü (Dbus), 133, 144, 145, 146, 147, 149, 151, yang (dbyangs). See chanted melodies
152, 153, 161 (n. 73), 162 (n. 92, n. 95), yang (g.yang), 20, 59, 64. See also ritual:
163 (n. 97, 101), 252 to acquire wealth
umdzé (dbu mdzad). See chant leader Yarlung (Yar glung) Kingdom, 56
universal monarch (cakravartin), 208, yé (yas) rituals, 104, 121, 137, 157 (n. 23)
248 (n. 74) Yeshé (Ye shes) Monastery, 18, 27, 187,
Uyug (‘U yug) River, 140, 141, 158 (n. 33), 188, 189, 190, 192, 193, 194, 195, 201,
159 (n. 38), 162 (n. 84, n. 92) 203, 204 (n. 1), 205 (n. 21)
Yeshé Tsogyal (Ye shes mtsho rgyal,
Vairocana, 78, 106, 118, b. 8th century), 134
Vāgı̄śvarakı̄rti, 104, 105, 106, 107, 111, yidam (yi dam). See tutelary deities
113, 121, 122 (n. 4), 123 (n. 11–19). Yogācāra, 92–93, 94, 95, 97, 98,
124 (n. 20–22), 125 (n. 36), 126 100–101 (n. 13); Yogācāra-Mādhyamika,
(n. 46–47, n. 49). See also Instructions 98, 100–101 (n. 13). See also
on Deceiving Death mind-only
Vajracchedikāprajñāpāramitā Sūtra, Yungdrung Tenpé Gyaltsen (G.yung
208, 209–213, 215, 216, 218, 219, drung bstan pa’i rgyal mtshan, b. 1516),
221 (n. 16), 222 (n. 22); as the 193, 199
epitome of the Sūtra vehicle, 210,
211; Mongolian commentaries on, Zhang-zhung, 56
209–210; as a talisman, 211–212; as a zhidag (gzhi bdag). See site spirit
tutelary deity, 215. See also Explanation Zhigpo Lingpa (Zhig po gling pa,
of the Vajracchedikā, and Sūtra that 1524–83), 132, 134–135, 136, 139, 140,
Explains the Benefits of the Vajracchedikā 149, 156 (n. 16), 157 (n. 20–21),
Vajradhāra, 241, 245 (n. 28) 158 (n. 25, n. 31), 159 (n. 37), 161
Vajrakı̄la, 6, 137, 149. See also Dorje Purba (n. 67, n. 70), 162 (n. 88)
Vajrapāni (Phyag na do rje), 189, 192, 194, Zhikatse (Gzhis ka rtse), 145, 147,
195, 198, 199, 203, 236, 238, 240, 242, 156 (n. 14), 163 (n. 96–97). See also
245 (n. 28), 247 (n. 62), mantra, 231 Samdrubtse
Vajrasattva, 72, 78 Zhing Shagpa Karma Tseten (Zhing shag
Vajrayāna, 79, 85 (n. 21). See also Tantra pa Karma tshe brtan), 145, 155 (n. 9),
Vajrayoginı̄, 2 162 (n. 95), 163 (n. 97)
Vasubandhu, 92, 100–101 (n. 13) Zhuchen Tsultrim rinchen (Zhu chen
vidhi, 13. See also choga Tshul khrims rin chen, 1697–1774),
Vinaya rituals, 2, 14, 32 (n. 28) 124 (n. 32–33), 125 (n. 34–35),
Vis.n.u, 106, 189 127 (n. 58), 128 (n. 67, n. 69), 129 (n. 72).
visualization, 14–15, 16, 33 (n. 33), Zilnön Namkhé Dorje (Zil gnon nam
85 (n. 21), 90, 91, 93, 97, 104, 117, 118, mkha’i rdo rje, 19th century), 75,
121, 198, 199, 248 (n. 70); of deities, 84 (n. 15)