A Monk’s Guide to Finding Joy

Introduction

I FEEL SO grateful that my life has been graced with good fortune. In May 1975, in Kathmandu, Nepal, I was reborn as Sonam Topgyai. In Tibetan, my name means Merit with Increasing Strength. I was delivered to a dedicated mom with a kind heart and an optimistic dad who encouraged me to do my best. I was very close with my mom. Her compassionate heart always astounded me. Once, when I was seven years old, she risked her life by embarking on a long journey across rough, perilous terrain just to visit me at my school in northern India. By then, I had already been studying for two years and recognized as the eighth Khangser, which means Yellow House in Tibetan.

One reason why I was recognized as the reincarnation of this spiritual teacher is because word got out that I remembered my past life. I would often talk with my mom about my vivid past life memories of riding a white horse and running a monastery. She always suspected I was special. Even when she was pregnant with me, she sensed that I would go on and do great and helpful things. It was no surprise to her that I was recognized as the eighth incarnate Khangser Rinpoche by the search party from Sera Jey Monastery. When they discovered me at five years of age, I wasn’t clear about what was going on around me, but I was clear about certain things from the past. I had a clear recollection of what my previous monastery looked like, particularly the surrounding mountains. I also felt well acquainted with monastic practices, such as sitting in lotus position with my hands poised in the teaching mudra. Even though I was uncertain of the role I was to play, it became clear fast that the title Rinpoche held a lot of importance.

Once they confirmed my previous existence, I was escorted to the monastery in southern India, where an enthronement ceremony was held for me. Students and monastics greeted me, claiming that I had been, and was now again, their teacher. At that moment, I felt so fortunate and blessed. Shortly after, I was assigned a caretaker by the name of Kelsang Chodak. He not only acted as a caring parent but answered my questions about life and the Buddhist path. He was not the only strong influential adult in my early years of study; at age eight, while attending school in India, I met the Tibetan teacher I refer to as my master. His name was Khensur Lobsang Tsering, and he was a former abbot of Sera Jey Monastery. I had an intuitive feeling that he was destined to teach me, so I made certain to talk with him. When I asked him whether I should follow the Buddhist path or not, he laughed joyfully in response. He knew that this path was a narrow, personal path that one must choose to take without any outside pressure. Pleased with his answer, and feeling grateful to find him, I gave him my prized little ceramic statue of the well-known Tibetan philosopher Lama Tsongkhapa. I appreciated finding such an excellent teacher.

My teacher was a calm, philosophical, intelligent person who was never rash. When making decisions, he’d carefully consider all the factors involved before deciding what to do. Once he made up his mind to do something, he’d work tirelessly toward his objective. I never once saw him dissuaded by unkind gossip or discouraging remarks, despite his revolutionary goals. He was the one who insisted that our Buddhist institutions adopt a strictly vegetarian diet, regardless of the Tibetan monks’ love of meat. He also revolutionized our monastery by incorporating health care and formal education into our traditional monastic system. He doggedly worked toward updating our antiquated ways of thinking and doing things while steadily following the Buddhist path.

During the Cultural Revolution in China, a hostile campaign was waged to eliminate Tibetan religion, culture, identity, and traditions. During that time, my master was imprisoned for several years simply because he taught others a way to end their suffering. Nevertheless, 3despite his imprisonment, he refused to harbor any ill will toward his captors. Instead, he prayed in earnest to be freed so he could continue to help liberate others from their anguish. He never grumbled or griped over this incident or complained of any ills. Instead, he insisted that the purpose of his life was to benefit others. His greatest wish was to help ease the mental and emotional difficulties common to human existence.

My master and I shared this goal, as we did many core beliefs. We had a close bond—so close that just prior to his passing, he conveyed to me that he would be dying soon. He conveyed this not in words, but by his silent response when I asked him to pray while I was away. He knew, and I too became aware, that he’d not be around to do so.

At age ninety-three my teacher passed away, but his mission did not. His modern way of seeing life, his wisdom, and his teachings live on inside of me. I share his revolutionary spirit and his appreciation of deep philosophic views. He helped me comprehend my role as Rinpoche. Like my master, my purpose is to serve others. For eight lifetimes I have made it my mission to help people find the right path, to offer my emotional support, and to provide resources for those who are materially vulnerable. My teacher pointed out that I’m indebted to multitudes of people who have shown me generosity and support—not just in this lifetime, but over many lifetimes. He urged me to pay back this karmic debt by giving assistance to others and expecting nothing in return.

Thanks to the encouragement of my teachers, fellow monastics, caretakers, family, and master, not one moment of my life goes by without the thought of paying back the generosity of others. I owe so much! That is why I have studied long and hard to obtain the very highest geshe degree of monastic scholarship within the Tibetan Geluk tradition, a doctorate degree in Tantric Buddhism, and mastery in the Nyingma Buddhist tradition. I’ve dedicated my entire life to providing spiritual medicine for what ails a broken spirit. I am on a mission to help as many as I am able. Once, a woman believed so heavily in my mission that even though she was of little means, she gave me the only thing she had of great worth, her gold wedding 4band. She insisted I keep it. I never sold that band; I keep it as a precious reminder of just how much I owe this world and its inhabitants. This sort of kind generosity is an inspiration to me. Because of people like her, I have developed successful charities and research projects worldwide. All to help alleviate the suffering I witness.

Some suffering that I’ve witnessed I can’t shake. I recall the time I saw a frail, ragged man searching in the garbage for a scrap of food. He found one small piece of bread saturated in filth but ravenously scarfed it down as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Incidents like this fuel my efforts to give materially. Some people don’t even have the means to obtain the basic things needed to live. They lack food, clean water, and shelter. Without these basics, how can someone even begin to think of working on their spiritual improvement? I witness others who have so much wealth yet are impoverished on the inside. They suffer with deep, suicidal depression and struggle with negative emotions such as hatred and greed. Some people I have encountered feel so desperate for inner relief that they take their own lives. Their pain compels me to write books and start research projects that address clear, simple methods to alleviate mental suffering and its associated physical ills. Furthermore, to prevent this sort of inner turmoil, I’ve set up free in-person and online classes and meditation sessions to impart the helpful wisdom that I have learned.

It seems safe to say that all humans on this earth desperately want happiness. Not just fleeting happiness, but steady, reliable joy. Of late, we have been attempting to capture happiness by any means—especially by making technological advances and relying on consumerism. But happiness cannot, and never will, exist outside of us. It is, without a doubt, an inside job.

I would like to help you to live a strong and happy life. I sincerely feel that anyone can benefit from the Buddha’s teachings, regardless of their religion, way of life, or beliefs. In fact, it is okay to keep these things and just incorporate what is helpful from Buddhist teachings into your way of living. My particular Buddhist tradition, however, is not like the mindfulness movement that has become so popular in 5the West. Although mindfulness meditation, in which you repeatedly let go of thoughts, can be very helpful, in my tradition this is a beginner’s practice known as shamatha, or calm abiding. This meditation, where you focus on something to anchor you in the moment, does induce relaxation and assists with attention, but it alone doesn’t treat the root cause of a person’s afflictions. Rather, the tradition of lojong, or mind training, treats what ails you. It not only tames your mind but trains you to think in a positive and healthy way. We use contemplative practices that build inner, mental strength, so that when we do encounter difficulties, we can easily endure them. This sort of analytic mind training is a path rather than a destination. It is meant to turn your mind toward your heart—toward kindness and compassion. Ultimately, it is a way of living that cultivates joy. This is what we call mind training. That is why it is not enough to simply work with your mind; you also are tasked to integrate what you learn into your everyday life.

The sole objective of this book is to wholeheartedly offer you wisdom that is at the core of my extensive education and give you ways in which you can benefit from these ancient teachings in a modern way. Each chapter in this book concludes with profound spiritual reflections and tried-and-true practices. After reading the reflection, take a moment to contemplate the story and then deeply ponder the correlating practice. Commit these practices to memory. Consider them as an arsenal of spiritual tools available for eliminating suffering. To reinforce these practices and to help you develop a wise mind and a kind heart, there is a mind training practice section at the end of this book. All of this is meant to be used in your day-to-day life. Although some practices may seem deceptively simple, I assure you that they are not. We tend to operate on habitual tendencies, and negative habits are not easily broken. That is why I urge you not to underestimate the power that training your mind can have in breaking these habits. Approach these practices with dogged determination. You will never know if these methods work if you don’t apply them 6to your life. Try for at least several months, make a strong effort, and remember that everyone has the potential to become a happy buddha—even you.