The dalai lamas cat and.., p.1
The Dalai Lama's Cat and the Four Paws of Spiritual Success, page 1
Also by David Michie
Fiction
The Dalai Lama’s Cat
The Dalai Lama’s Cat and The Art of Purring
The Dalai Lama’s Cat and The Power of Meow
The Queen’s Corgi
The Magician of Lhasa
The Astral Traveler’s Handbook & Other Tales
Nonfiction
Buddhism for Busy People: Finding Happiness in an Uncertain World
Hurry Up and Meditate: Your Starter Kit for Inner Peace and Better Health
Enlightenment to Go: Shantideva and the Power of Compassion to Transform Your Life
Mindfulness is Better than Chocolate
Buddhism for Pet Lovers: Supporting our Closest Companions through Life and Death
Copyright © Mosaic Reputation Management (Pty) Ltd 2019
First published in 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, or otherwise be copied for public or private use (other than for ‘fair use’ as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews) without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents appearing in this work are the sole expression, opinion and product of the author’s imagination only, are entirely fictitious and do not represent and are not based on any real life views of any character or event in any way whatsoever; any resemblance is strictly coincidental. Any and all references and depictions appearing in this work to real life persons, living or deceased, are based solely and entirely on the author’s imagination and are in no way a representation of, or bear any resemblance to, the actual views, events or opinions of such persons.
Conch Books, an imprint of
Mosaic Reputation Management (Pty) Ltd
Cover design: Sue Campbell Book Design
Author photo: Janmarie Michie
Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available from the
National Library of Australia www.trove.nla.gov.au
ISBN 978 0 9944881 8 3 (Print USA version)
ISBN: 978 0 9944881 9 0 (Ebook USA version)
Dedication
With heartfelt gratitude to my precious gurus:
Les Sheehy, extraordinary source of inspiration and wisdom;
Geshe Acharya Thubten Loden, peerless master and
embodiment of the Dharma;
Zasep Tulku Rinpoche, precious Vajra Acharya and yogi.
Guru is Buddha, Guru is Dharma, Guru is Sangha,
Guru is the source of all happiness.
To all gurus I prostrate, go for refuge and make offerings.
May this book carry waves of inspiration from my own gurus
To the hearts and minds of countless living beings.
May all beings have happiness and the true causes of happiness.
May all beings be free from suffering and the true causes
of suffering;
May all beings never be parted from the happiness that is without suffering, the great joy of nirvana liberation;
May all beings abide in peace and equanimity, their minds free from attachment and aversion, and free from indifference.
Prologue
Are you curious, dear reader? If you were to find yourself padding past an alcove concealed by a curtain, would your every instinct be to tug back the fabric—or, indeed, push under it—to see what lay behind?
Making your way down a familiar street, if you came to a door which, for your entire existence, had been closed, but today was ajar, would you pause to take a good, long peek inside? Or at the very least, steal a sideways glance? And if that door led to a mysterious corridor which, in turn, opened onto a secret courtyard, or perhaps a lamp-lit room filled with intriguing artifacts, might you be tempted to venture inside?
Oh, there’s no need to reply. I already know your answer. That’s something we have in common, you and I. You are not the kind of reader—and I am most certainly not the kind of cat—satisfied by mundane routine. We have inquiring minds, do we not? We ask questions. Discover things. Leave a newly emptied cardboard box in the middle of a room, and we will be the first to jump inside it.
And I’m not merely being literal. As you will also have assumed. Which is another thing we have in common, you and I—the wish to have fun while exploring possibilities of the greatest profundity. Why communicate on a single level, pray tell, when you can do so on two levels simultaneously? Where’s the joy in that?
Of all the subjects about which we’re curious, the one that makes our tails tingle and whiskers positively quiver is, of course, the one that concerns our ultimate purpose, our deepest wellbeing. What are our destinies, dear reader, and how may we affect them in this lifetime and whatever follows? Is it true that the nature of our mind is radiant, boundless and serene? If so, how do we go about experiencing this extraordinary reality?
There are different places a cat might seek out answers to such questions. One such venue, a place teeming with great wisdom, is The Himalaya Book Café, one of my favorite places in the world. A short distance down the road from Namgyal Monastery, where I live with His Holiness, the bookshelves of this delightful emporium offer a treasure trove of spiritual and esoteric reading. Among the many titles, you will discover global bestsellers along the lines of: The Six Laws of This, The Seven Habits of That or The Eight Rules of The Other.
Just looking at them puts me in the mood for a nap. How much effort would it take to plow through all those earnest volumes, I sometimes wonder? To try to remember all that they contain? Then to apply the laws, habits and rules to one’s own life? Do people actually go through life constantly monitoring their activities against a checklist of items which grows in length every time a new such book is propelled onto the bookshelves?
It all seems very complicated. Unnecessarily so. Because day after day as I sit on the windowsill, listening to His Holiness offer wisdom to countless visitors, he is never complicated. Guests don’t leave his office clutching life prescriptions itemizing six of these plus seven of those, like a bubble pack of multi-colored capsules to be ingested daily. On the contrary, the Dalai Lama’s advice is usually very simple. And as a famous cat once said—it may even have been me—simplicity is the ultimate sophistication, is it not?
Rather than venturing down to The Himalaya Book Café and the latest batch of imports, if it’s enlightenment one is after, then it’s far better to stay at home. Sprawled in the dappled light of my delightful, first-floor sill, where I can keep an eye on the courtyard below and all the comings and goings at Namgyal Monastery. The perfect vantage point from which to maintain maximum surveillance with minimum effort.
For years I have sat in this same spot following the change of seasons outside, while eavesdropping on His Holiness’ conversations within. For years I have been on the receiving end of compliments about the adorableness of my sapphire-blue eyes, my charcoal-colored face, the sumptuousness of my cream coat, and the delightful bushiness of my gray tail.
When the Dalai Lama rescued me from almost certain death, and I was a mere scrap of a kitten, everything in His Holiness’ apartment was fresh and exciting. In those very early days I was confined to the first floor, a space quite big enough for a tiny, if inquisitive, being. Seven years have passed, and I have long since become thoroughly acquainted not only with His Holiness’ apartment, but also with every nook and cranny of Namgyal Monastery, not to mention all the most interesting neighborhood haunts. They are all now familiar territory.
Recently I came to realize that, without setting out to do so, I have become equally familiar with the conversations that go on within. During my earlier days, intrigued by every passing prince, president or pop star, the questions they came with were as new and unfamiliar to me as the Dalai Lama’s apartment had been, when I was a tiny kitten.
Seven years on, I have come to realize that whatever questions they may ask His Holiness, the answers are always variations on the same themes.
However, instead of becoming bored with these teachings, the opposite is true: the more acquainted I become with them, the more deeply they touch me. Whenever I hear the Dalai Lama explain the value of loving kindness, in his distinctive bass voice, I find myself resonating with exactly those same qualities, as though by transmitting the idea, he makes them manifest. Whenever he throws back his head and laughs—which he does often—he simultaneously releases a joy within me, and whoever else is in the room, that is quite palpable. And whenever he explains the path to fulfillment and inner peace, I am struck with such a profound sense of wellbeing that I wish it could ripple out to every being possessing fur, feathers or fins—as well as those relative few on our planet who do not—so that we may all come to know our own true nature as a tangible, all-pervading truth.
And I have also come to understand another thing: the reason why so many people seek out the Dalai Lama isn’t necessarily because of what he might say. It’s because of the way he makes them feel. Words and insights may be important, because they suggest the reason for the way he is why he is. They point to how we, too, can cultivate those same q
Often at the end of an audience with His Holiness, a visitor will ask if there’s a book they should read to understand the Tibetan Buddhist path. The Dalai Lama may give them a copy of a recommended title—such as Shantideva’s classic, Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life. Alternatively, he may recommend another book, or ask one of his Executive Assistants to provide more details to the visitor on the way out.
Whether or not his guests ever get around to actually reading these books is an interesting point. For it seems as if, in asking for a book suggestion, they are requesting a keepsake. A souvenir. Something to keep alive the extraordinary flame lit by his presence.
One evening around five o’clock, His Holiness’ two Executive Assistants came into his office for their daily review. As always, Oliver, the Englishman who worked as the Dalai Lama’s translator, had poured three cups of green tea which they were enjoying. Tenzin, His Holiness’ adviser on monastic matters and the quintessential diplomat, sat next to Oliver on the sofa facing their boss. I was sprawled out on my own armchair next to His Holiness.
“We gave your American visitor the book you requested,” reported Tenzin. A famous talk show host had visited us earlier that afternoon.
The Dalai Lama looked pensive for a few moments, before shrugging. “A useful book. Perhaps he will read it. But for him, maybe, not ideal.”
On the sofa, Oliver and Tenzin exchanged a significant glance. The matter of what book to offer visitors was one they had discussed many times over the years.
Oliver, being a Westerner, was often more forthright than the others in the Dalai Lama’s circle. He leaned forward on the sofa, “Your Holiness, what would an ideal book look like?”
The Dalai Lama nodded as he pondered, before saying, “It must cover the key elements of the path.” He used both hands to sweep a circle in front of him. He listed the themes with which I had become long familiar. I counted them. There were four.
“An introductory book?” queried Oliver.
His Holiness held up his right hand in a cautioning way. “But not simplistic.” His eyes met Oliver’s with a mischievous twinkle. “You Westerners are not quite the barbarians that we Tibetans thought you were back in the 1960s.”
They all chuckled. When lamas first emerged from behind the Himalayas to go to Europe, USA and Australia, they had imagined that Westerners, steeped in their materialist ways, would have little interest in the subtleties of mind training, let alone exploring the true nature of their own consciousness. What they’d found had astonished them.
“High level, but not dumbed down?” queried Oliver.
“And …” His Holiness continued, “the book should include explanations about the mystical things,” he chuckled again.
“You mean like oracles?” asked Oliver with a grin. “Telepathy?”
I turned my head to tune in more closely.
The Dalai Lama nodded as he laughed.
“Astral traveling and the like?” continued Oliver.
I noticed that Tenzin was taking no part in the conversation. Still seated beside his fellow Executive Assistant, it was as though he had dissolved into the background, removed himself from the conversation by his reticence.
At this point His Holiness looked directly at Oliver and said, “As my translator on so many books already, perhaps you would like to write this one?”
In an instant I realized why Tenzin had been keeping so quiet.
Oliver began coughing, his pale face turning pink. “Your Holiness!” he spluttered.
“You are familiar with the main themes.”
“Yes, but …” Oliver was gripped by another paroxysm of wheezing. For this man—a translator, no less—who usually had no difficulty giving voice to the most nuanced and complex matters, to be rendered speechless was most unusual.
As he was doubled up, gasping for air, the Dalai Lama glanced over at Tenzin with a playful twinkle. “You could think of a title that is …” he tried to think of the word.
“Catchy?” prompted Tenzin.
“Yes. Like in the airport bookshops.”
Given his constant travels, these were places with which His Holiness was familiar. Glancing over at me, the Dalai Lama seemed to be reading my mind—and not for the first time. “The Six Rules of something!” he gripped the arm of his chair as he chortled.
Recovering from his coughing episode, Oliver realized he was being made fun of. Sort of. Though perhaps not entirely. He gave careful thought to what he was about to say. “The ideal book should explain the main themes of Tibetan Buddhism. And what people find magical—like rebirth and so forth. But that isn’t enough.”
The Dalai Lama raised his eyebrows.
“What people want, more than anything, isn’t just your wisdom. It’s the way you make them feel. We need to somehow communicate your presence.”
In an instant I realized where clever Oliver was going with this. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to do that,” he said.
His Holiness pondered for a moment before asking. “Then who is?”
Deciding we must be getting near dinnertime, I stirred on the armchair, stretching out all of my legs with a luxuriant quiver.
The timing of this maneuver, I have to confess, was as crass as Oliver’s point had been subtle. Around the table, all three men laughed. “I think we have a volunteer,” chuckled the Dalai Lama.
“And perhaps a catchy title?” suggested Oliver, gesturing towards my outstretched limbs. “The Four Paws of Spiritual Success!”
They all chuckled before His Holiness observed, “That’s not such a bad title. After all, the Tibetan Buddhist path may be said to comprise four particular aspects. Four practices which are our challenge to embody.” Gesturing towards a beautiful image of Shakyamuni Buddha hanging on his wall he murmured, “We are reminded of these four elements every time we see the representation of an enlightened being.” Oliver and Tenzin nodded sagely.
I looked over at the wall-hanging. Reminded of four elements, I wondered? Were we?
Later that evening, I was perched on the bed, paws neatly tucked under me, while the Dalai Lama sat close by, meditating. This was one of my favorite times of the day, our room lit with the soft glow of a solitary lamp. His Holiness’ powerful, yet gentle compassion pervaded outwards beyond this room, and even Namgyal Monastery, to encompass lands and realms of existence far beyond. As the focus of his meditation turned to loving kindness, I began to purr softly, continuing all the while until he finished his session.
That was when he reached out to stroke me. “They are right, my little Snow Lion,” he said, using the very special name which only he ever called me. In Tibet, snow lions are a symbol of fearlessness, power and joy. “You are tuned in.”
I purred even more loudly.
“You have listened to me for thousands of hours,” he continued to massage my face with his fingernails, just the way I liked it. “You know the wisdom to be shared. Most of all,” he leaned over, briefly whispering in my ear, “you know how to communicate loving kindness.”
As my purr rose to a crescendo, I turned to meet his eyes directly—a privilege bestowed only rarely by we cats.
“If you can help make others feel this way,” he touched his heart. “Wonderful!”
Which is how, dear reader, you come to be holding this book in your hands. As much from a wish to convey an energetic presence, a feeling, as the profound wisdom of the Dalai Lama.
But if I may let you into a secret at this early stage, the sense of oceanic wellbeing people so frequently feel in His Holiness’ presence isn’t actually coming from him. He is an enabler, if you will, a facilitator. He is so pure of heart and so utterly free from ego, that what he does is reflect back to those he is with their own, ultimate nature. Their highest version of themselves.
If you’re wondering how the presence of an enlightened being, a bodhisattva, may be communicated on the pages of a book written by a flawed and complex—if extremely beautiful—cat, let me confess that my only job here is to offer you a mirror. A looking glass of a particular kind. One that reflects back not the contours of your nose or the arch of your brow, but which provides a much deeper reflection of who and what you are. One which penetrates beneath the surface persona with whom you are no doubt all too familiar, to the truth of the consciousness abiding within.
