拓滇安欽的故事
我想跟你們講一個關於安欽的事跡，他是住在北印度札西炯的一個卓越的瑜伽士。他的精神傳承是竹巴噶舉，但實際修持的是寧瑪傳承的大圓滿，就和我一樣。當他還在西藏的時候，他從事大量的禪修，變得非常平和。他獨自閉關六年，這個閉關的狀況很舒適，非常好。在那個年代，人們會帶食物給閉關中的瑜伽士，又或瑜伽士也會擁有自己的食材，他可以給自己煮個小而美好的餐食。附近有很多木柴可用，當太陽照過來的時候，可能相當暖和；而且瑜伽士甚至還可能看見寬廣的天空景色。周圍可以看到很多樹以及森林中的各種動物。
瑜伽士可能會感到些許驕傲：「我正在修持佛法。我很快樂，對我來說這裡是很舒適的。沒有負面情緒，沒有困難，也沒有障礙。而且我還很年輕。」六年之後，安欽覺得他的修持進展得非常好，真的。但他接著又想：「好吧，誰知道呢，也許這個修持只是把我轉化為一棵平靜的植物罷了。」所以他請示上師康祖仁波切：「如果去一個可怕的地方，一個粗礪崎嶇而不舒服的地方，有沒有可能對我比較好呢？」康祖仁波切回答：「是的，毫無疑問，你應該去這樣的地方。」然後仁波切指示了一個特殊地點的方位。
抵達那裡時，安欽發現的是個太陽永遠照不到的巨大的洞穴，不斷有水滴落洞口。傍晚時分，一大群鴿子從周圍飛進來，大便在他身上，並且發出大量的噪音。第一天，他不知道發生了什麼事。他放了很多容器來收集滴落的水，但當他喝下去的時候，他說：「這是什麼啊？味道好奇怪！」之後他才知道那是鴿子的尿。這個山洞又濕又冷，很吵，晚上很可怕。當他在那裡修持時，他發現自己先前內心的平和消失得無影無蹤。他思索著：「我的修持破碎成片了，現在我該怎麼做才是？」同時他覺得過去做過的任何事情都沒有太大作用，所以現在他真的必須好好修持了。
伴隨著鴿群永無休歇地在黑暗的周圍中飛著，一開始真是非常艱難。這就像是身處中陰，有著所有的混亂與噪音。借著不讓自己屈服於散亂，不讓心被噪音帶走，安欽試著長養本覺的內在力量。他就這樣一再一再地訓練自己。他待在那個地方可能又是六年。而現在，不管發生了什麼事，不管那是愉悅的或者不舒服的，真的都不影響他了。他再也不在意了，但這不表示他漠視任何事物。我相信當安欽死亡時，在中陰多半不會遇到太多麻煩。對他而言，正如他們所說，所有的情緒都融入本覺的寬闊無垠中。換句話說，他自由了。
尾聲：
84歲那年，拓滇安欽於7月1日星期五，藏歷5月25日，空行日，在印度札西炯離開這個世間。當他離世時，多宗仁波切、確甲仁波切、以及措尼仁波切陪伴在旁。措尼仁波切大約在當天下午2點左右到達札西炯，就直接進去拓滇安欽的房間，當時確甲仁波切已經在那裡了。多宗仁波切則於數小時後抵達。三位仁波切在安欽的最後幾個小時陪在身旁。氣氛非常平靜，死亡過程進行得非常平順。稍早，拓滇安欽經歷了一些疼痛，但這些都過去了。在最後時刻，拓滇安欽非常平和，就像火焰慢慢消失。雖然身體不再有足夠的力氣來動作或說話，但他時不時仍張開眼睛，視線非常直接而且清澈。
就在拓滇安欽將要離開以及死亡的那一刻，多宗仁波切在他耳旁輕輕的給予指引：關於心性自然明光的提醒。傍晚7點15分，拓滇安欽死亡。他在圖當中停留了一天半，顯然有非常微細而鮮明的徵兆。沒有人進入他的房間，房間外也保持得很安靜。黑暗覆蓋的這個夜晚里，年輕的拓滇們前來，坐在安欽的寮房外，在靜默的道別時，將他們的心和老師的心融合為一。當拓滇安欽的圖當結束時，札西炯所有的仁波切與出家僧眾都前來祈願並獻上哈達。氛圍非常平靜。他們唱誦大手印祈願文，並將他們的心與老師的心融合為一。居士們隨後也前來致上最後的禮敬。
拓滇安欽將他的生命奉獻給札西炯密集的瑜伽訓練。雖然在傳統上，拓滇們只將他們持有的法教傳授給同一傳承的年輕拓滇們，但因拓滇安欽強大的慈悲，他對全世界的學生都給予教導和指引。待在札西炯時，措尼仁波切很幸運從他接受法教，並且瞭解到兩人之間有著強大的業緣聯繫。措尼仁波切把拓滇安欽當成是父親祖古烏金仁波切之後的第二位大圓滿上師。拓滇安欽死後，康祖仁波切同意正式開始給予教導。
直至達到那個境界之前，我們必須修持。我們必須增長習慣於這樣的自由。以處理各種情緒的處理能力當做量尺。不論是被當前情緒所劫持、敵視它、或者試圖擺脫它的反應，我們都必須超越。當我們對於體性空、自性明、能力無礙，變得愈來愈穩定、也愈有信心，我們就能慢慢達到這個層次。然後我們會發現情緒不必然壓制我們，我們也不需要被它抓住。我們不需要阻止或壓抑情緒。反而，我們單純地由它任運自然地出現，成為本覺的嚴飾。
Fearless Simplicity(中譯大圓滿生活), p. 241-243--對應煩惱
译注1：拓滇(Togden)是指修持那洛六法、大手印以及竹巴噶举其他秘密教法而了悟自心的瑜伽行者。拓滇们虽是受过具足戒的比丘，但他们在外相上却蓄留盘卷在头顶的长发，并且穿着密勒日巴传统的白袍。
A story about Togden Amtin
I would like to tell a story about Amtin, a remarkable yogi who lives in Tashi Jong, northern India. His spiritual tradition is the Drukpa Kagyu, but his practice is Nyingma, Dzogchen, like me. When he lived in Tibet, he practiced meditation a lot and became very peaceful. He stayed in solitary retreat for six years, and the retreat situation was very comfortable, very nice. In those days, people would bring food to yogis on retreat, or the yogi had his own ingredients–he could cook up a nice little meal for himself. There was lots of firewood around; when the sun was shining, it could be quite warm; and one might even see a wide-open vista of sky. There were trees all around and various animals could be seen in the forest.
The yogi might have some pride: ‘I am practicing the Dharma. I am very happy; it is very comfortable for me here. There are no negative emotions, no difficulties, no obstacles. I’m still young.’ After six years, Amtin felt that his practice was going very well, indeed. But then he thought, ‘Well, who knows, maybe this practice has just turned me into a tranquil vegetable.’ So he asked his master, Khamtrul Rinpoche, ‘Wouldn’t it perhaps be better if I went to a scary place, a rough, rugged, unpleasant place?’ Khamtrul Rinpoche said, ‘Yes, definitely, you should go to such a place,’ and he gave directions to a particular location.
Arriving there, Amtin found a huge cave where the sun never shone, with water trickling down the entrance. In the evening, a large flock of pigeons flew around inside, making a lot of noise while shitting down on him. The first day he didn’t know what was going on. He put out various containers to collect the water trickling down, but when he drank from it, he said, ‘What is this? It has a strange taste.’ Later he realized it was urine from the pigeons. The cave was cold and damp, noisy, and scary at night. As he practiced there he found that his former peace of mind was tracelessly gone. He thought, ‘My practice has gone to pieces. Now what should I do?’ And he felt that whatever he had done in the past didn’t amount to much, so now he really had to practice.
It was very difficult in the beginning, with the restless pigeons flying around in the dark. It was like being in the bardo, with all the turmoil and noise. Amtin tried to cultivate this inner strength of rigpa by not surrendering himself to the distraction, by not getting carried away with the noise. He trained like that over and over again. He stayed in that place for maybe another six years. And now, whatever happens, whether it is pleasant or unpleasant, really doesn’t affect him. He doesn’t care anymore. But that doesn’t mean that he ignores everything. I believe that when Amtin dies, he probably won’t have that much trouble in the bardo. For him, all emotions are, as they say, subsumed within the expanse of rigpa. In other words, he’s free.
Epilogue
At the age of 84, Togden Amtin passed away peacefully in Tashi Jong, India on Friday, July 1st, the 25th day of the fifth Tibetan month, Dakini Day. Dorzong Rinpoche, Choegyal Rinpoche, and Tsoknyi Rinpoche were with him when he passed. Tsoknyi Rinpoche arrived in Tashi Jong at about 2 p.m. that day and went straight to Togden Amtin’s room. Choegyal Rinpoche was already there. Dorzong Rinpoche arrived a few hours later. The three of them were beside Amtin in his final hours. The atmosphere was very calm, and the process of dying happened very smoothly. Earlier on, Togden Amtin experienced some pain, but this passed. In his final moments, Togden Amtin was very much at peace, just like a flame slowly fading. From time to time he opened his eyes, and his gaze was very direct and clear although he no longer had enough power in his body to speak or move.
Just before Togden Amtin’s passing and at the moment of his death, Dorzong Rinpoche whispered instructions in his ear: a reminder of the natural luminosity of mind. At 7:15 p.m., Togden Amtin died. He remained in tugdam for one-and-a-half days; very subtle vital signs were evident. No one went inside his room and the outside was kept very quiet. That night under the cover of darkness, the young togdens came and sat outside Amtin’s hut, mingling their minds with their teacher’s as they said their silent good-bye. When Togden Amtin’s tugdam was finished, all the Rinpoches and monks at Tashi Jong came to pray and offer khatas. The atmosphere was very calm. They prayed the Mahamudra prayer and mingled their minds with their teacher’s. The lay community then arrived to pay their final respects.
Togden Amtin dedicated his life to intensive yogic training at Tashi Jong. Though traditionally togdens only pass their teachings on to the younger togdens of their lineage, through his great kindness Togden Amtin taught and gave instructions to students from all over the world. While at Tashi Jong, Tsoknyi Rinpoche was fortunate to receive teachings from him and realize a strong karmic connection. Tsoknyi Rinpoche considered Togden Amtin to be his second Dzogchen teacher, after his father, Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche. Following Togden Amtin’s death, Khamtrul Rinpoche has agreed to officially begin teaching.
Until we reach that level, we need to practice. We must grow used to this freedom. Use as a yardstick your ability to cope with whatever emotion arises. We must transcend being hijacked by the current emotion, being on the defensive against it, or trying to get rid of it. We reach this gradually, as we become more and more stable and confident in empty essence, cognizant nature, and unconfined capacity. Then we discover that the emotion does not necessarily run us over, and we don’t need to get caught up in it either. We don’t have to prevent or suppress the emotion. Rather, we simply allow it, spontaneously and naturally, to become an embellishment of rigpa.
Fearless Simplicity, pp. 186-187
