Showing posts with label china. Show all posts
Showing posts with label china. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

i'd like to go to india. live in a big white house in the forest, drink gin and tonic and play a grand piano...

it appears we have some referrals of keyeword searches from ppl looking for informations on MANDARAVA THE GURU-DIETY! india is pretty close to china so here is china series part 3, MANDARAVA THE GURU-DIETY.


Mandarava is one of the two principal spiritual consorts of Padmasambhava and is considered a female guru-deity. Mandarava, born a princess in India, renounced her royal birthright, to practice the Dharma, and became a fully realised spiritual adept and great teacher.

Mandarava (Tib. man da ra ba), whose full name is Mandarava Flower (Tib. man da ra ba me tog) referring to Erythrina Indica, the coral tree, one of the five fabled trees that grow in paradise (or Sukhavati), was a princess of Zahor (or Mandi) in the 8th Century CE. Mandarava was also known as the White Princess (Tib. lha lcam dkar mo) though the blooms of the coral tree are a brilliant scarlet. Mandarava is also the name of one of the Gandharvis, therefore, the name may also be considered that of an Indian devi.

Mandarava was born of Vihardhara, King of Zahor and Queen Mohauki. Her birth was said to be accompanied by miraculous signs and her renunciation and spiritual inclination was marked from a young age. Due to her fabled beauty, many kings from India and China were said to number amongst her marriage suitors. Mandarava wishing to pursue her spiritual calling endeavoured to release herself from regal trappings wherein she was intercepted by her father and incarcerated. There is a venerated petrosomatoglyph of Mandarava’s footprints located near the dungeon where she was restrained.


Mandarava and Padmasambhava were energetically drawn to one another. Vihardhara, fearful of the contamination of the royal bloodline and what he perceived as Mandarava’s apostasy, endeavoured to have Mandarava and Padmasambhava purified by immolation through the flames of a pyre. Instead of finding their corpses incensed and charred, Vihardhara finds that the fire of the pyre has been transformed into a lake out of which arises a blooming lotus that supports the unharmed Mandarava and Padmasambhava who through this manifestation of their realisation have achieved their secret names of Vajravarahi and Hayagriva, respectively. Afterwhich, Vihardhara furnishes the union with his unreserved blessings.

Mandarava realises her calling to spread the Dharma with Padmasambhava, thereby fulfilling the prediction of her birth that she was a dakini. At 16 years of age, Mandarava became the first of Padmasambhava’s five historical spiritual and sexual consorts in Maratika (known as Haleshi in the local dialect), the Cave of Bringing Death to an End. (Maratika Cave, and later Maratika Monastery, is located in Khotang District of Nepal, circa 185 kilometres south west of Mount Everest.) Both Mandarava and Padmasambhava achieved the unified vajra body on the vidyadhara level of mastery and realised some of the practices of long life or longevity that were concealed in the Maratika Cave as terma by Dakini Sangwa, the terma constituted the teachings of Buddha Amitabha and they were elementally encoded as terma at the behest of Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara. Whilst Padmasambhava continued spreading teachings throughout the Himalaya, Mandarava remained in India.


Mandarava is said to have manifested her sambhogakaya form at the great Dharma Wheel of Tramdruk where she engaged in a dialogue of mantra and mudra with Padmasambhava. Extensive details of this are rendered in the Padma Kathang.

As Mandarava attained the vajra rainbow body (jalus), she is held to be present in the world now spreading and inspiring the Dharma.

Mandarava is considered a wisdom, knowledge or awareness dakini among whose different names and manifestations are: the yogini Mirukyi Gyenchen “Adorned with Human Bone Ornaments” at the time of Marpa; Risulkyi Naljorma during the time of Nyen Lotsawa; and Drubpey Gyalmo during the time of Rechungpa. Chushingi Nyemachen, the spiritual consort Maitripa, is considered to be none other than Mandarava. The dakini Niguma is also considered to be Mandarava.

Through practice and diligence, Mandarava realised a degree of spiritual mastery equal to that of Padmasambhava her consort, evidenced in her honorific Machig Drupa Gyalmo (ma gcig grub pa'i rgyal mo), “Singular Queen Mother of Attainment”.

Mandarava was famed for her compassionate and loving nature and she saved the youthful Kalasiddhi from an untimely death, raising her to adulthood. Kalasiddhi later became another of Padmasambhava’s consorts.

Jamgon Kongtrul relates the story of Mandarava within “In The Precious Garland of Lapis Lazuli”. Another story of Mandarava is found in the 14th century Padma Thang Yig Sheldrang Ma terma of Orgyen Lingpa. There is a beautiful description of the inaugural meeting of Yeshe Tsogyal with Mandarava Flower in "Sky Dancer, the secret life and songs of the Lady Yeshe Tsogyel". Samten Lingpa (also known as Tagsham Nu Den Dorje), a terton from the second half of the 17th century, consecrated six folios to Mandarava and Padmasambhava and their pastimes in Maratika Cave.


The iconography of Mandarava in her sambhogakaya form is often of her sporting white skin with a tinge of red, wearing regal bodhisattva ornamentation. In her right hand she often holds the dadar (or arrow) a teaching tool and ritual implement and a powerful polyvalent symbol of Dzogchen, disciplic succession, lineage and transmission, amongst others. Mandarava is often adorned with banners and a melong (or mirror) which is another ritual implement, teaching tool and polyvalent symbol of Dzogchen representing the clear, reflective and void (or empty and etherial) nature of mind. Mandarava’s left hand often holds a bumpa or long-life vase or wisdom urn of the ashtamangala. Mandarava is sometimes depicted standing in an energetic dance which denotes her enlightened activity and dakini nature. When depicted with Padmasambhava, Mandarava is iconographically represented to his left.

The terton, Chögyal Namkhai Norbu, has realized and transmitted terma as well as oral instructions specifying thangka depictions and iconography of Mandarava.

Friday, July 20, 2007

china exposed episode 2: my favorite chinaman

this is mr. pingping:



he is the world's smallest man.



look at his face. mr. pingping will fuck you up. yao ming up there does not stand a chance against mr. pingping.

dwarfism is a medical or genetic condition that usually results in an adult height of 4'10" (147 cm) or shorter, among both men and women, although in some cases a person with a dwarfing condition may be slightly taller than that. despite these limitations, do not feel sorry. he gets a lot of tail on account of his sharp dressing skills. little known fact: his tongue is normal sized -_O

(editor note: my favoritist chinaman, my personal photographer, was disqualified on account of being a halfsie, and also on account of not being named "mr. pingping")

Thursday, July 19, 2007

banned in the prc!!!!!!!! baaaannned in the prc!!!!!



i has found out from operative and sassy boy JON that schefterblogz is banned in the people's republic of china. i am very dispapoiinted with this decision by kim jong il because schefterblogz has important information for everyone, even chinese ppl. i am going to start a special series today on china, because like tron i fight for the users.

thx,
schefs <3

my first bit of helpings is to point all my readers to how to buy chinese garlic. This is my favorite site for this procurement. it is good and also pretty.

Friday, April 6, 2007

postcard from china!



People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles. This is the first thing I hear when I come back to the city. Blair picks me up from LAX and mutters this under her breath as her car drives up the onramp. She says, "People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles." Though that sentence shouldn't bother me, it stays in my mind for an uncomfortably long time. Nothing else seems to matter. Not the fact that I'm eighteen and it's December and the ride on the plane had been rough and the couple from Santa Barbara, who were sitting across from me in first class, had gotten pretty drunk. Not the mud that had splattered the 1egs of my jeans, which felt kind of cold and loose, earlier that day at an airport in New Hampshire. Not the stain on the arm of the wrinkled, damp shirt I wear, a shirt which had looked fresh and clean this morning. Not the tear on the neck of my gray argyle vest, which seems vaguely more eastern than before, especially next to Blair's clean tight jeans and her pale-blue T-shirt. All of this seems irrelevant next to that one sentence. It seems easier to hear that people are afraid to merge rather than "I'm pretty sure Muriel is anorexic" or the singer on the radio crying out about magnetic waves. Nothing else seems to matter to me but those ten words. Not the warm winds, which seem to propel the car down the empty asphalt freeway, or the faded smell of marijuana which still faintly permeates Blair's car. All it comes down to is that I'm a boy coming home for a month and meeting someone whom I haven't seen for four months and people are afraid to merge.


Blair drives off the freeway and comes to a red light. A heavy gust of wind rocks the car for a moment and Blair smiles and says something about maybe putting the top up and turns to a different radio station. Coming to my house, Blair has to stop the car since there are these five workmen lifting the remains of palm trees that have fallen during the winds and placing the leaves and pieces of dead bark in a big red truck, and Blair smiles again. She stops at my house and the gate's open and I get out of the car, surprised to feel how dry and hot it is. I stand there for a pretty long time and Blair, after helping me lift the suitcases out of the trunk, grins at me and asks, "What's wrong?" and I say, "Nothing," and Blair says, "You look pale," and I shrug and we say goodbye and she gets into her car and drives away.


Nobody's home. The air conditioner is on and the house smells like pine. There's a note on the kitchen table that tells me that my mother and sisters are out, Christmas shopping. From where I'm standing I can see the dog lying by the pool, breathing heavily, asleep, its fur ruffled by the wind. I walk upstairs, past the new maid, who smiles at me and seems to understand who I am, and past my sisters' rooms, which still both look the same, only with different GQ cutouts pasted on the wall, and enter my room and see that it hasn't changed. The walls are still white; the records are still in place; the television hasn't been moved; the venetian blinds are still open, just as I had left them. It looks like my mother and the new maid, or maybe the old maid, cleaned out my closet while I was gone. There's a pile of comic books on my desk with a note on top of them that reads, "Do you still want these?"; also a message that Julian called and a card that says "Fuck Christmas" on it. I open it and it says "Let's Fuck Christmas Together" on the inside, an invitation to Blair's Christmas party. I put the card down and notice that it's beginning to get really cold in my room.


I take my shoes off and lie on the bed and feel my brow to see if I have a fever. I think I do. And with my hand on my forehead I look up with caution at the poster encased in glass that hangs on the wall above my bed, but it hasn't changed either. It's the promotional poster for an old Elvis Costello record. Elvis looks past me, with this wry, ironic smile on his lips, staring out the window. The word "Trust" hovering over his head, and his sunglasses, one lens red, the other blue, pushed down past the ridge of his nose so that you can see his eyes, which are slightly off center. The eyes don't look at me, though. They only look at whoever's standing by the window, but I'm too tired to get up and stand by the window.


I pick up the phone and call Julian, amazed that I actually can remember his number, but there's no answer. I sit up, and through the venetian blinds I can see the palm trees shaking wildly, actually bending, in the hot winds, and then I stare back at the poster and then turn away and then look back again at the smile and the mocking eyes, the red and blue glasses, and I can still hear people are afraid to merge and I try to get over the sentence, blank it out. I turn on MTV and tell myself I could get over it and go to sleep if I had some Valium and then I think about Muriel and feel a little sick as the videos begin to flash by.