Every year for the last eleven years, the Russian SMS teacher Sasha Pubants has led a Mandarava chudlen retreat in Germany at the time of Losar. Alex Studholme travelled from the UK to join this year’s gathering and record his impressions.
Nuremberg airport is small and I walk out of its sliding doors to find a smiling Kristin, pulling up in a parking space in her silver Ford Focus, with Leo, her nine-year-old son, buried in the back seat beneath his cello. As we drive the thirty km or so to the retreat, we talk about Kristin’s experience of the Native American Indian tradition and my own background in Buddhist academia. The countryside is flat and featureless: gently rolling fields bordered by forests of fast growing pine, the villages strangely empty, dotted with signboards of full-faced middle-aged men touting for votes in an upcoming local election.
Our destination is the village of Hofen, where Hans Vogel, a longtime member of the Dzogchen Community, greets us in his green overalls. In a true labour of love, Hans has turned his own house into a fine retreat facility. The property is not itself a ling, though the German community makes regular use of it. Hans runs a rolling programme featuring a variety of different teachers and groups. He has been host to such luminaries as the Bonpo lamas Lopon Tenzin Namdak and Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche. The yellow front wall of the house boasts a large, grey metal Tibetan A.
There is room to sleep 25 comfortably (there are singles, doubles and family rooms), separate bathrooms with good showers for men and women, an abundance of toilets, and plenty of efficient radiators keeping the farmhouse very warm. Retreatants have their own well-equipped kitchen and dining room, whilst Hans and his family lead their own lives in the privacy of their own apartment. The shrine room or teaching hall is located on the top floor, under the eaves: spacious and light, carpeted in blue corduroy. There is a palpable atmosphere of spiritual practice in the house and people immediately report vivid dreams.
Slowly, the other retreatants arrive, each with their own very different stories. I meet Thea, a psychiatrist; Udo, a botanist and student of the American tai chi teacher Bruce Frantzis; Claudia, a massage therapist, who uses the ear as a particular means of diagnosis; Max, who had overcome some significant lifelong problems after seriously engaging with Rinpoche’s teaching; Michel, for many years a student of the Karma Kagyu lama Tenga Rinpoche; Jodi, an American from Kansas, now living on an island off the coast of Croatia, with a background in transpersonal psychology; Barbara, Sasha’s wife, who originally practiced yoga with Hans; and, finally, Sasha himself, who, I am fascinated to discover, left his native St Petersburg to spend several years living as an ordained monk in a Gelugpa monastery in Buryat.
The first three days of the retreat are devoted to detailed study of the Mandarava sādhana. I am deeply impressed by the seriousness and passion which Sasha brings to the task. (I am, also, very grateful that my German hosts graciously allow him to teach in English, which he does with remarkable facility, occasionally switching to equally fluent German whenever needed.) Teaching pours out of him. He speaks from the heart and from experience. We rehearse melodies and mudras, and go through the text line by line, exploring in depth the mechanism of the practice, as well as its underlying doctrine and philosophy. Fortunately, Sasha also has a great sense of humour and love of the ridiculous: there are plenty of laughs to keep the mood light and joyous.
We begin our Mandarava practice in earnest on the fourth day. In the morning, there is one long thun and then a viewing of Rinpoche’s webcast teaching from Tenerife, followed by another long thun in the afternoon and a Mandarava ganapuja in the evening, in which we make only very small offerings of food and wine. In general, the chudlen diet we follow is not the frugal, minimalist affair I had expected. Rather, as Sasha points out, though it is best to eat nothing (or no more than our very essential ganapuja) in the evening, it is actually quite important to eat well during the day: to have a proper breakfast and lunch, to promote a certain stability and groundedness as the practice begins to take effect. The dark double-baked German bread, cold meat and cheese of various kinds, and beans with oil or butter are all regular fixtures on the menu.
Before very long, some of us begin to experience aches and pains in different parts of the body, as the practice activates the movement of lung (or prāṇa), releasing and reconfiguring physiological tensions. Sasha explains this process can produce quite severe symptoms of ill health: he himself is feverish and out of sorts one morning, putting it down to the effect of lung. As a newcomer to this practice, I am inspired to see my fellow retreatants earnestly engaging with the sog thig breathwork and tsa lung inner heat exercises. While stressing that he himself is not a qualified yantra yoga teacher, Sasha nevertheless gives some succinct advice about the fundamental kumbhaka breathing, which I find helpful.
As the retreat progresses, the weather improves and there is time for walks across the fields to the neighbouring settlement of Munchsteinach. Barbara and I practice the Vajra Dance together in the beautiful, wooden, octagonal Vajra Dance hall that adjoins the house. The garden is alive with the sound of birds, visiting the many bird feeders Hans has put up. A willow tree comes out, one of the first signs of spring. The elderly house cat says hello. And there is plenty of time for relaxation: snoozing, chatting and drinking cups of tea in the sun.
A few of us continue the retreat at Barbara’s apartment. It is only on boarding the train back to Nuremberg that I realize how much my condition has been shifted by the practice. Walking through the streets of the city – stopping off to buy papaya for the evening’s ganapuja and some of the famous lebkuchen as a birthday present for a friend – I feel as if we practitioners exist together in a little bubble. There is a peculiar charge to the atmosphere in the streets and the world seems a little strange.
Many thanks to my German hosts, who could not have been more friendly and welcoming: the entire ten days were delightfully relaxed and very enjoyable. Particular thanks to Sasha for his expertise and for the great care he took to make sure we all benefited from our time on the retreat. In the focus and depth of the study and practice of Mandarava – and in the warmth and good humour of the assembled company – I really feel that my experience of Rinpoche’s teachings and the understanding of myself as a member of the Dzogchen Community took a significant step forward.
Being the Mandala
A personal view of a ten-day Mandarava tsalung group retreat in Germany, by Barbara Schwesig
For the last eleven years at around the time of losar, I have spent ten days with a group of other practitioners immersed in the practice of Mandarava – to deepen my knowledge of the primordial state, to refresh my energy and to heal my body of the wounds of every day life. Every retreat is special. And you never know what will happen.
When you spend ten days in the same environment of practice, everything becomes practice. You practice, you dance, you eat, you sleep, you talk, you walk – everything is the mandala of the deities. Sometimes completely transparent, joyful and non-existent, sometimes thicker, heavy, earthbound, but always the mandala. Deeply connected with each other. Every word, every smile, every conflict a matter of the teaching, a method to purify, to let go, to learn, to give, to enjoy.
After six days of teachings and practice, my wrinkles were halved. I was worried about them in the weeks before, so I knew each one! My skin became younger – quite obviously. My aching back became vibrant to the sound of the mantra, echoing in my body. Though I did have a friend who helped me a lot, giving me massage several times, enabling this to happen.
Yes, Mandarava is in everything. During our retreat we also asked Sasha to clarify different points in the practice – sometimes fundamental points of understanding, sometimes technical ones, such as the finer aspects of the mudras. As Alex asked: “To click or not to click – that is the question.” And then, waving her dadar, Thea replied: “It is all about shaking the spear!”
Rinpoche always says that he is checking his dreams with the tantras, to see if they are really in accord with the teachings. I must confess, I never understood that. Of course, I learn Santi Maha Sangha, I do practice, I study the texts. And every now and then, I find it in my life, in my practice. This time, it was fundamental. This time, I had many, very vivid experiences about fundamental points in Buddhist teachings – like emptiness, like no-self, like transcending of subject and object, the inner and outer dimension, like all pervading energy and bodhicitta.
I did not recognize the teaching in the actual moment, but afterwards, I could see – it is all true, this is what the rigdzins sing about, this is what our master teaches. All the time. Now, I understand it is important to know the tantras, it is important to check, to see if it is your own fantasy or if it is the experience or the wisdom that is transmitted by the teaching. I could recognize it afterwards. The method, the path of the dakini, connected with the living transmission of the masters, is the stream I can plug into that leads me to this wisdom.
What makes my practice strong and lively? Answer: if I really practice for the benefit of others. Again and again, I have this recognition. And again and again, I forget it, being a stupid selfish being. OK, this is a long term habit. It cannot be completely overcome in a few moments of recognition, but must be worked on again and again.
Every practice retreat is different. It depends on ourselves, on the participants. The losar retreat of Mandarava in Hofen is always international – not just German. This time people came from the USA and the UK – and in previous years from Israel, Greece, Italy, Spain, Holland and Poland. We are a family in the mandala. It is so good to experience the different kinds of approach that different people have to the teachings. Every possible kind of question arises and gives space to different aspects of the practice – which becomes richer and richer, year after year. This is the power of practicing together.
Further reflections on the Mandarava retreat
from Thea Höling
Having the chance to attend a Mandarava retreat of Sasha Pubants is like a big celebration. But, for a long time, I wasn’t sure whether I would be able to make it (just for the one week of practice, having received the teaching part two years ago). As the time drew near, I found myself entangled in a lot of samsaric stuff, which showed me clearly the state of my mind, an increasing exhaustion and a worrying lack of being able to feel love.
Thanks to Barbara’s gentle reminder about what I really wanted, I found my way. First, to the beautiful place that Hans provides for us in Hofen. If ever you want to see a shining example of living the Four Immeasurables, meet Hans – in his many ways of holding, caring, listening and being available, with patience and a great sense of humour. These immeasurable qualities proved always to be around in our days of practice.
We were an international group of people, with different personalities, life situations, experiences and knowledge, coming together for these precious days. Without even thinking about it much and without effort, a seamless weaving took place of practice, the webcast teachings of our master, everyday chores, sharing good company, as well as having the time to be on one’s own.
Time stretched and became spacious, with a light and fresh quality. Practicing with dharma kin (unlike my everyday practice as a solitary plant) reveals how everything combines and prospers: how every question, comment, shared experience adds to the whole and the feeling of really being in one boat. There was Sasha, not just leading the practice but teaching continuously – not talking about teachings, but speaking from the heart and the core of them, which also meant answering questions in an essential way.
Bearing in mind my concerns, from early on I heard a constant, “Don’t worry!” from within (a bit ridiculously, resembling the Bobby McFerrin song). OK, take it into the practice, and then – dancing energies, no contradiction between learning and play (oh my, how did that mudra go?), seriousness and laughter, inside and outside, an ever changing flow that embraced everything.
In the middle of this, Sasha talked about compassion and bodhicitta. “Every energy is compassion,” he said, “Compassion is everywhere. We are born out of compassion!” It was like striking the centre of a gong (me being the gong), shifting and adjusting something inside of me, lifting veils… This showed me again that even though there are many different “secondary” practices, with different specific goals, in the end they are all fingers pointing to the same source.
Heartfelt thanks to Sasha, to the Master and to the lineage!
