Like most creation myths the story of the 24 Sacred Places contains some pretty wild stuff. Gods, demons, blood sacrifice and great heroes who return again and again to save this imperfect world. It’s wild. It’s so wild I can hardly believe it myself. But please, read to the end of this blog and then consider what is outlandish, what is absurd, and just what, possibly, may be believable.
North of the Indian subcontinent the gods and goddess of prehistoric India battled for possession of the Himalayas. The various mountain peaks centered around Mt. Kailash became the 24 sacred places, holy to both the Aryan Hindus and the Buddhist cosmology.
But according to the buddhist HEVAJRA TANTRA. the powerful Hindu demon Bhairava seized the 24 sacred places for himself. Setting up a lingam in each of them, Yakshas and Rakshasas proceeded to make blood sacrifices to Bhairava’s representation. You can in fact see animal sacrifices still being made to linga during festivals throughout Kathmandu.
Out of compassion the Buddha initiated a new age, an age in which the four headed, twelve armed heruka Chakrasamvara subdued Bhairava. The 24 sacred places came to represent 24 aspects of Chakrasamvara, with the body aspect residing in Mt. Kailash, the speech aspect residing in Godiwara (or Lapchi) and the mind aspect residing in Tsari. These 24 sacred places also abide in the vajra body of each and every single one of us… Later, the great Tibetan saint Milarepa (1052-1135) visited Lapchi, meditated and blessed the sacred places
I knew about all of this but I still didn’t have the slightest idea about what it really meant, so when Drupon Rinchen Dorje suggested Yasha and I accompany him and his group to Lapchi in the fall of 2023 we jumped at the opportunity. We would trek up to the caves on the Tibetan-Nepali border and meditate in the same caves utilized by Milarepa. But first we would need some protection.
A thousand years ago in the aftermath of Milarepa’s sojourn in Lapchi the Drikung Jigten Sumgon appointed a retreat master for each of the three great sacred places. They were called a Dorzin, a holder of the vajra. We would go and see the Lapchi Dorzin, the 33rd consecutive vajra holder, to ask for protection.
The present day Lapchi Dorzin, Dundrup Palden, sleeps in a tiny room in Kathmandu under his yak fur coat. Patiently he explained to us that if we wanted protection on our pilgrimage we needed to develop great compassion. He said that compassion would protect us from the dangers of getting to Lapchi, it would protect us from landslides and wild animals, from drowning in perilous stream crossings and the cold of high altitude. Looking at myself I wondered if I had great compassion. But just based on previous experience it didn’t seem like that was something I possessed.
Two days later we were at Lamabagar, the trailhead to Lapchi. Surrounded by concentric rings of mountain and jungle Lapchi has always been virtually impossible to access. Only the most determined of yogis, such as a Saraha or a Milarepa were capable of penetrating the wilderness. Today, for better or worse, things are different. A dirt access road leads to Lamabagar where a small hydro dam provides power to the valley. From Lamabagar it’s still a stiff two day walk to the caves and monastery of Lapchi.
Meanwhile, a new road is slowly slashing its way up the Lapchi Kang, bringing potential disruption, increased pollution and the destruction of a way of life. Also, it would connect with the Chinese road at the border. Yikes!
We boarded two trucks, one filled to bursting with our twenty porters, and slowly drove through a swamped side tunnel of the hydro. Once on the other side we dismounted and began walking along a tiny dirt road perched a thousand feet above the river below. This looked great to me! But we were called back. This wasn’t the route at all! Our guide pointed to a rope descending from the jungle. Our path lay up there!
What followed was one of the most difficult days of my life. (except for the next one!) We gained a thousand hard feet through the bamboos. Along the way I was struck by diarrhea, and I had to repeatedly dive into the jungle to relieve myself. Quickly I was left behind.
We skirted the ridgetop with the river thousands of feet below, ascended and descended rickety ladders and then crossed on a makeshift bridge above a waterfall. Finally we descended two thousand feet back to the river.
The day devolved into a nightmare. We had lunch of dal and rice, which only exacerbated my gastric difficulties. Then after crossing the river we began to climb again.
We ascended a sheer cliff face on tiny stone steps that continued endlessly above the precipice. I was totally spooked… Death was so close! I kept a hand on the cliff face and my eyes glued to my feet!
We turned into a different drainage and climbed more ladders before topping out on a road. I was beyond exhaustion! So I was stupefied when Drupon Rinpoche sat down on the road to meditate. But below us, vaguely glimpsed through the tree, were several small houses along the river. Evidently this was Godiwara, the ‘left ear of Chakrasamvara’. Currently the bridge was washed out and it was inaccessible. I didn’t even really know what the ‘left ear of Chakrasamvara’ was and I didn’t care! If I stopped I would fall down! So I continued shuffling along, leaving everyone behind.
Four hours later Yasha and I were barely conscious and staggering through a swamp without a headlamp. Somewhere ahead a porter had a cell phone light but that didn’t help when we were ankle deep in mud. Someone called, and flashed a light our way. Within minutes we were eating thantuk out of a metal bowl and then we fell into a troubled sleep in our tent.
The following day we woke tired but strangely elated. We were on pilgrimage! Soon we would reach our objective, the storied retreat caves of Lapchi! With a spring in our step we traversed a fairy tale forest of Rhododendron, Oak, Birch and Spruce. But soon the two thousand meters of elevation gain left us gasping for air and punch drunk.
Eventually I became afraid of stopping to rest. I was walking so slow, and was so tired, that I was afraid of being left behind. Sunk in my own self-referential world of exhaustion I didn’t realize that other people were failing too, and that their exhaustion might be worse than mine. Nor did I realize that Emily, our facilitator on this trip, had my back. Literally!
By eveningtime I could barely walk or breathe. We briefly stopped to make prostrations to the holy mountain Vajrayogini ahead of us and then, through the gloom, I could see the monastery. I asked Drupon Rinpoche, “how much further?” and he replied, ‘Two hours!’ I made a choking sound, “What!?”. He pointed to a tiny light on the mountainside of Vajrayogini far far above the Monastery. “We’re going to Rinchen Cave!” Inside my mind a tiny voice cried out, “No fucking way!” But it was true. It was dark by then and every step I took on the steep staircase I had to stop and pant. Both my flashlights were dead so I illuminated my uncertain path with my cell phone. Some people beside me were being carried, literally being dragged to the top, and I couldn’t even keep up with them. Finally it was just Emily and me, with her behind me, helping me all the way.
Virtually everyone who comes to Lapchi comes because of Jetsun Milarepa. His story and his life are so exceptional that it’s worth telling again and again: A black magician and a murderer, he executed his family at the behest of his mother. Then, tormented by guilt, he vowed to practice unceasingly until his negative karma had been erased. Provisionally accepted as a student by Marpa Lotsawa, Milarepa built, demolished, and then rebuilt numerous times a tower on Marpa’s homestead, severing the ego that carried the negative karma. After visiting Godiwara in a vision, Marpa detailed the location of the ‘Left ear of Chakrsamvara’ to Milarepa and instructed him to go and meditate until his aspirations were fulfilled. Afterwards Milarepa moved up to the valley to the caves above Lapchi village, where he remained for the rest of his life.
It’s really hard to talk about Milarepa, and anything concerning Lapchi for that matter, without discussing the miracles. In the cave we were staying, the Rechen Cave, there was a footprint on the ceiling from where Milarepa kicked off to go flying. After Milarepa this cave had been used as a meeting place for yogis to do puja: so before every event they would hang a red cloth outside the cave. On seeing it, other yogis from the valley would come flying over! (More on this later!)
The photos above are from a present day puja or Tsog, a feast in the Rechen Cave
One of the reasons that Milarepa is so universally beloved throughout the Tibetan Buddhist world is that he illustrated that if one is properly motivated and willing to expend effort – great effort – one can attain enlightenment within one’s lifetime. It is said that when one of Milarepa’s disciples asked him how he had attained buddhahood he merely raised his robe and pointed to the calluses on his buttocks!
Our teacher, Drupon Rinchen Dorje, had also spent years meditating in the caves of Lapchi, so he endeavored to show us the caves where he and Milarepa had spent time. Right off the bat we climbed to the highest cave, the Crest Cave, at 4800 meters.
I have been to 4800 meters or higher many times and in general it’s a total bummer. The pounding headaches, the gasping, the realization that you just aren’t getting enough air, for me everything above 4200 meters was a no go zone. But I had prayed to Milarepa again and again “Jei Mi La/Zhe Pa/Dorje La/Sol Wa Deb So”. (I pray to Jetsun Milarepa, the Vajra of Bliss) and somehow I feel He blessed me. The day was warm, the wind was negligible, and the glorious sunlight was like a benediction. I smiled into my lunch of ramen noodles, filled with an easy happiness that didn’t need anything else.
There was a long term retreatant staying in the cave, but he kindly consented to stay out of the way while us noisy westerners ooed and aahed the view.
Unfortunately, by this time, some of us were feeling the effects of the strenuous walk in and the relentless wind and altitude. They would need to be helicoptered out from a lower altitude, preferably from the yak meadow next to the monastery below. We had a final meal of momos in the fabulous lama’s quarters beside the Rechen Cave and then prepared for the walk down the following day.
Five hundred meters below the Rechen Cave a small monastery, Chora Gephal Ling, sits on a plateau above the confluence of two mountain streams. The triangle created represents the Reality Source upon which Vajravarahi dances. Really, everything here in Lapchi is sacred.
Chora Gephal Ling was established in the 18th century by the great Tibetan philosopher, poet and yogi, Shabkar Tsokdruk Rangdrol. He had spent years in meditation on an inaccessible island in Lake Koko Nor before coming to Lapchi and discovering the hidden entrance into the most famous of Milarepa’s caves, ‘The Cave of the Subjugation of Mara.’
It wasn’t long after we were situated in a dusty storeroom where we would sleep before Drupon Rinpoche came to conduct us to the ‘The Cave of the Subjugation of Mara,’ also called the Dudul Cave.
There are many stories surrounding the time Milarepa spent meditating in the Dudul Cave. One of the most famous was when it snowed continuously for 18 days and nights and subsequently he spent six months trapped in the cave. Having only one days worth of food when he began his retreat the local villagers rightly believed Milarepa to have perished. However, when they opened the cave in the spring time they found a laughing Milarepa who told them he had transformed himself into a snow leopard to watch them opening his cave!
The Chant Master opened the door to the Dudul Cave while performing an odd gesture. He would place his hands over his midsection as if meditating then raise them over his head like Superman flying in the sky. “What’s he doing?” I asked. Our translator replied, “He says that when you meditate you fly.” “You mean,” I asked again, trying to temporize, “when you meditate your spirit flies?” “No,” came the definitive answer, “When you meditate you fly.”
Another day Drupon Rinpoche took us to the village of Lapchi where we were treated to innumerable cups of butter tea.
The villagers were preparing to move down the valley for the winter. The Yaks were already on the move, foraging towards frost free zones. And it was cold, it was getting colder by the day. As we walked back to the monastery we inspected a small shrine where a Yak had attained rainbow body(!) and we decided to leave the next day.
Later, while ensconced around the giant wood stove in the monastery’s kitchen and drinking a cup of chai we were invited to view the sacred relics of the monastery.
These relics are objects of high value, kept under lock and key: A bearskin sun visor used by Milarepa, one of the shoes belonging to Naropa, the bone belt of Tsangnyon Heruka – ‘the madman of central Tibet’. To a Westerner these objects are patently ridiculous. But to a true believer they are a ticket to a cosmic dance, a hidden world where one migrates from lifetime to lifetime while visualizing oneself as Chakrasamvara triumphing over anger and lust. And why not believe it? All my argumentative western mind has ever done was gotten me into was into trouble. Why not just let it go? This is what Lapchi asks, Why not just let it go?
The next day we rose early and followed the trail of Yaks and villagers down the valley. But there was one more surprise in store for us: We would walk an extra few miles to get back to Godiwara. In our absence Drupon Rinpoche had had the villagers build a makeshift bridge across the river. For a final treat we would spend the night at the ‘left ear of Chakrasamvara’
We crossed the log jam bridge and then there we were in Godiwara… a group of decaying buildings being overrun by the jungle. But somehow I felt like I had come home. That this was my place. His Holiness Chetsang Rinpoche had meditated here some time in the past and then finally the last monk died. This place sacred to Chakrasamvara, where Saraha and Milarepa had meditated, had sat empty for more than a decade.
Physically the ‘left ear of Chakrasamvara’ looks just like that. Sometime millennia ago the river had carved the soft stone of the gorge into something that resembled a cochlea- the inner ear of a giant being. There were two mouldering whitewashed buildings and on the cliff directly above us was an enormous waxy yellow bee hive shaped like the fin of a whale. Hanging upside down a black bird industriously pecked at this lush and dangerous fruit. I felt like Indiana Jones , venturing into a lost world where Chakrasamvara is real and all my demons are defeated! Twenty meters upstream was the abandoned temple, submerged in a sea of stinging nettles.
Above the temple hung another bee hive, five feet long, pulsing with insects.
It was decided that while everyone else would sleep out under the trees Yasha and I would sleep in the temple with Drupon Rinpoche and Altan Lama. So I swept out the mouse droppings as best I could and then as soon as dinner was done Yasha and I crawled into our sleeping bags, exhausted. Several hours later I was woken by Drupon Rinpoche, meditating to the light of his laptop. He didn’t move, and each time I looked over throughout the night his face was slightly upturned and his eyes closed. When we got up to go to breakfast in the morning he was still sitting there, unmoving. At this point I just couldn’t fathom it any more; the people, the sacred landscape, the relics (!!), the devotion, my exhaustion… it was all too much! So I just let it go.
Two days later we were back in Kathmandu. I’ve had friends remark how hard it was to come back, to the hustle and bustle of life in the United States. That’s true. No one likes to leave Shangri La. But I also feel like I’ve been given something precious I never had before. It’s something I’ll always have no matter where I go or what I do. I’ve been given a sacred view of this imperfect world, a view that is so stainless and pure that sometimes it leaves me just grinning like an idiot. And perhaps I am.