If you're looking for something to read this weekend check out my review on the book My Spiritual Autobiography by the Dalai Lama.
My Spiritual Autobiography
His Holiness the Dalai Lama
Collected by Sofia Stril-Rever
Translated by Charlotte Mandel
Rider, 2011
ISBN 978-1-84604-242-3
Rather than being a blow by blow account of the Dalai Lama's birth to current day My Spirital Autobiography is made up of the various stories, speeches and interviews that the Dalai Lama has given over the years beautifully collated by Sofia-Stril Rever who also adds her own commentary when it is necessary for a clearer understanding.
It breaks the Dalai Lama's life into three sections As a Human Being, As a Buddhist Monk and As the Dalai Lama. Not only does this logically work in terms of timing i.e. as a human being was the Dalai Lama's time before becoming the Dalai Lama, as a Buddhist Monk being about the Dalai Lama's training as a Buddhist monk and as the Dalai Lama when at the age of 16 the leadership was placed in his hands. It also presents the Dalai Lama in the very order that he considers himself, a human being first and foremost, then a simple Buddhist monk and lastly as the Dalai Lama.
The Dalai Lama has lived the most fascinating life from his boyhood in rural Tibet, to being discovered to be the 14th reincarnation of the Dalai Lama, to his training in Lhasa and then the Chinese occupation and his subsequent fleeing to India where he became the leader of the Tibetans in exile. After this the book delves into the Tibetans struggle to regain independence, to maintain their national and religious identity and to protect the precious ecology of "The roof of the world."
The Dalai Lama's representation of the struggle of the Tibetans still in Tibet, the genocide that has occurred and the flagrant flouting of basic human rights that has been committed by the Chinese Communist party is extraordinary and eye opening.
In particular I found to be most compelling his description of the fateful day of March 10, 1959 when thousands of Tibetans spontaneously gathered to form a wall with their bodies around the Dalai Lama's summer residence as the Chinese Army aimed their cannons toward him. The Dalai Lama made his escape disguised as a soldier in the hope that he could divert a tragedy. The crowd did not disperse however in the days that followed and on March 17 the Chinese Army attacked and men, women and children all offered their life for their Dalai Lama. Around ten thousand Tibetans were killed that day.
You cannot help through reading this book to feel compassion for the plight of Tibet and in-credulousness at how the world has allowed this to occur and continue. You also cannot do anything be be amazed at the compassion that the Dalai Lama holds for the Chinese nation and his patience in trying to bring about a resolution to the solution (he has been plugging away at this for 62 years.)
His lessons throughout the pages on compassion, humanity, inter-dependence and non-violence are thought-provoking and in some cases life-changing. This book is informative, interesting and most of all is likely to touch a part of your soul. I could not recommend this book more highly to anyone who is interested in the Dalai Lama, Tibet, Buddhism and personal development.
I leave you with a poem written by Tenzin Tsendu a poet and freedom fighter on the plight of those Tibetans still fleeing Tibet today.
Slowing threading our way by night and hiding by day,
In twenty days we reached the snow-covered mountains.
The border was still many days away by foot.
The rocky ground scraped our bodies, bent from effort and pain.
Over our heads a bomber passed
My children shout in terror
And huddled against my chest.
I was so exhausted I felt as if I had no limbs,
But my mind was watchful....
We had to press ahead or we would die on the spot.
One daughter here, one son there,
A baby on my back,
We reached the snowfields.
We climbed up the sides of the monster-like mountains
Whose snowy banks often cover the bodies of travelers who ventured here.
In the midst of these snow-white fields of death,
A pile of frozen corpses
Awoke our wavering courage.
Drops of blood were scattered on the snow.
Soldiers must have crossed their path,In our own country they had fallen into the hands of the Red Dragon.
We pray to the wish-fulfilling Jewel,
Hope in our hearts, prayer on our lips,
We have almost nothing left to eat
And only the ice to quench our thirst,
We climb together, night after night.
But one night, my daughter complained her foot was burning.
She fell and stood up on her frozen leg.
Her skin was tattered and gashed with deep, bleeding cuts,
She curled up, shivering with pain.
The next day both her legs were lost.
Assailed by death on every side,
I was a powerless mother;
"Amala, save my brothers,
I'm going to rest a little."
Until I no longer heard her moans in the distance,
I looked behind me, through my tears and the torture of this pain.
My legs carried me but y mind remained with her.
For a long time afterwards, in exile, I continue to see her
Waving her frozen hands at me.
The oldest of my children, but barely a teenager,
Leaving our country was an ordeal.
Every night I light a butter lamp for her,
And her brothers join me in prayer.
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