captured Padmasambhava and put him on a pyre of sandalwood and set it afire (this was the style of execution that had developed in that particular kingdom). The princess was thrown into some pitch containing thorns and lice and fleas. This was the king’s idea of religion.
The fire in which Padmasambhava had been placed burned on and on for seven days. Usually when they executed someone, the fire lasted only for a day or two. In this case, however, it burned on and on. Very unusual. The king began to think that perhaps there was also something unusual about this man wandering about pretending to be a guru. He sent his men to investigate, and they found that the fire had disappeared and that the whole area where the fire had been had turned into a huge lake. In the middle of the lake was Padmasambhava, once again sitting on a lotus. When the king heard this, he decided to find out more about this person. He decided not to trust the matter to a messenger, but went himself to see Padmasambhava. When he arrived at the scene, he was overwhelmed by the presence of this person sitting on a lotus in the middle of a lake where a charnel ground and a place to burn criminals had been. The king confessed his wrongdoings and foolish actions to Padmasambhava and invited him back to the palace. Padmasambhava refused to go, saying he would not enter the palace of a sinner—the palace of a wicked king who had condemned someone who was the spiritual essence of both king and guru, who had ignored the true essence of spirituality. The king repeated his request and finally Padmasambhava accepted his invitation. The king himself pulled the car in which Padmasambhava sat. Padmasambhava became the rajguru, the king’s guru, and Mandarava was rescued from the pitch.
During this phase of his life, Padmasambhava’s approach to reality was one of accuracy, but within this realm of accuracy he was ready to allow people room to make mistakes on the spiritual path. He was even ready to go so far as to let the king try to burn him alive and put his student, the princess, into the pitch. He felt he should let those things happen. This is an important point that already shows the pattern of his teaching.
There had to be room for the king’s realization of his neurosis—his whole way of acting and thinking—to come through by itself. His realization had to be allowed to come through by itself, rather than by Padmasambhava’s performing some miraculous act of magical power (which he was quite capable of) before he was arrested. Padmasambhava could have said, “I am the world’s greatest teacher; you cannot touch me. Now you will see the greatness of my spiritual power.” But he didn’t do that. Instead, he let himself be arrested.
This is a very important indication of Padmasambhava’s way of relating with samsaric, or confused, mind: let the confusion come through, and then let the confusion correct itself. It is like the story about a particular Zen master who had a woman student. The woman became pregnant and bore a child. Her parents came to the Zen master, bringing the child, and complained to him, saying, “This is your child; you should take care of it.” The Zen master replied, “Is that so?” and he took the child and cared for it. A few years later, the woman was no longer able to bear the lie she had told—the father of the child was not the teacher but someone else altogether. She went to her parents and said, “My teacher was not the father of the child; it was someone else.” Then the parents became worried and felt they had better rescue the child from the hands of the teacher, who was meditating in the mountains. They found him and said, “We have discovered that this is not your child. Now we are going to rescue it from you; we are going to take it away from you. You are not the real father.” And the Zen master just said, “Is that so?”
So let the phenomena play. Let the phenomena make fools of themselves by
Aaron Stander
Morgan Kelley
Sean Williams
Sabrina Jarema
John L. Monk
Jonah Keri
Kate Spofford
Krista Van Dolzer
Basil Heatter
Editors of Adams Media