The Guru In My Mind & Heart

by Dorjé Lopön Hun Lye 

If there is anyone whom I naturally think of when I cultivate guru yoga or read about devotion to the guru as the path, I think of two teachers. When I first met Khenchen Konchog Gyaltshen Rinpoche more than thirty years ago, he said to me, “I don’t have students or disciples; these are my dharma friends and members of the center.”
A reluctant teacher for a reluctant disciple, I thought. About six years later, Rinpoche had me deliver a letter to the head of our lineage, His Holiness Drikung Kyabgon Chetsang Rinpoche. Although I don’t know if the letter had anything to do with me, that meeting turned out to be the start of my discipleship under His Holiness.

A supplication commonly used by all lineages of Tibetan Buddhism says:

Glorious root guru, precious one,
Abide on the lotus-seat in my heart,
Look upon me with your great compassion,
Grant me the attainments of body, speech, and mind! 

Often, “on the lotus-seat in my heart” is replaced with “on the lotus-seat above my head,” depending on context. I use this supplication in its two variations to remember the guru both in my mind and heart. Inviting the guru to remain above my head is to deliberately have someone hang over me like a heavy rock held by a string. As I find myself increasingly in the position of being regarded as a teacher by others, having Khenchen Rinpoche as this heavy rock above my head is very important. The more others relate to me as a teacher, the more I have to remember this weight above my head. From Khenchen Rinpoche, I learned that the compassion of a guru is always in opposition to winning a popularity contest. His example—of only adhering to the buddhadharma in word and in deed, no matter what others expect or want from him—is rock solid and immovable. 

For me, the process of discipleship began a long time ago with my two teachers in the most ordinary way. It has been years of gradual, quiet, but stable growth of the relationships. There was no “crazy wisdom,” there were no flights of fancy. The ways both these teachers turned up in my life weren’t marked with special dreams, auspicious signs, or overwhelming feelings that we read about or hear others repeat. If anything, it has always been very grounding, and quite ordinary. And now, I recognize this to be a form of blessing. If anything but the “ordinary” had turned up, I probably would have run away! 

This article was originally published HERE by Buddhadharma and Lion's Roar.