The-Tibetan-Book-of-Living-and-Dying

xvi PREFACE
Jamyang Khyentse was acclaimed as the authority on them all.
He was, for everyone who knew or heard about him, the
embodiment of Tibetan Buddhism, a living proof of how
someone who had realized the teachings and completed their
practice would be.
I have heard that my master said that I would help continue
his work, and certainly he always treated me like his
own son. I feel that what I have been able to achieve now in
my work, and the audience I have been able to reach, is a
ripening of the blessing he gave me.
All my earliest memories are of him. He was the environment
in which I grew up, and his influence dominated my
childhood. He was like a father to me. He would grant me
anything I asked. His spiritual consort, Khandro Tsering
Chödrön, who is also my aunt, used to say: "Don't disturb
Rinpoche, he might be busy," 1 but I would always want to be
there next to him, and he was happy to have me with him.
I would pester him with questions all the time, and he always
answered me patiently. I was a naughty child; none of my
tutors were able to discipline me. Whenever they tried to
beat me, I would run to my master and climb up behind
him, where no one would dare to go. Crouching there,
I felt proud and pleased with myself; he would just laugh.
Then one day, without my knowledge, my tutor pleaded
with him, explaining that for my own benefit this could not
go on. The next time I fled to hide, my tutor came into the
room, did three prostrations to my master, and dragged
me out. I remember thinking, as I was hauled out of the
room, how strange it was that he did not seem to be afraid
of my master.
Jamyang Khyentse used to live in the room where his previous
incarnation had seen his visions and launched the renaissance
of culture and spirituality that swept through eastern
Tibet in the last century. It was a wonderful room, not particularly
large but with a magical atmosphere, full of sacred
objects, paintings, and books. They called it "the heaven of the
buddhas," "the room of empowerment," and if there is one
place that I remember in Tibet, it is that room. My master sat
on a low seat made of wood and strips of leather, and I sat
next to him. I would refuse to eat if it was not from his bowl.
In the small bedroom close by, there was a veranda, but it
was always quite dark, and there was always a kettle with tea
bubbling away on a little stove in the comer. Usually I slept