January-February 2000

I was born in Singapore, and our family was originally from Fujian Province, China. Ours was the fourth generation in Singapore, and I’m the second in the family with one elder brother. My family mixed Buddhist elements with local faiths, and we were also closely linked with other realms, as many of our relatives and friends were oracles, mediums who went into trances and spoke to us with the voices of the deities. My grandmother was one who was greatly involved in all this.

When I was weaning, I refused to eat meat. The moment I knew that what was on my dinner place was something I had just seen walking on legs on TV, I wouldn’t eat it. I regret not having kept up that good diet, if it weren’t for my grandmother force-feeding me and hitting me whenever I refused (I still remember her as a tough lady). My crying and singing prayers at seeing Grandma killing live fish really blew their minds.

When I was maybe 4 or 5, I was down on my knees begging my mum to send me to a “monastic school” and not just any school. Of course, we hadn’t heard of Drepung, Sera and Ganden, then. My mum assured me that she wouldn’t stop me once I had finished school, but that decision left me grieving for a very long time.

I always had dreams of pure realms, then (I don’t know how pure, though), and would wake up to tell my mum that Chenrezig is my lama. Strangely enough, my mum would also dream of Chenrezig taking me to different places. Oracles began to speak in trance that I was one who belonged to the Tathagata, and I had important work to do. But I was never allowed to listen to my past life account; the deities told only my parents, and sent me outside whenever they did so. This installed a lot of awe in my parents, which helped my ordination in later life.

I was always interested in how the deities were once ordinary beings like the creep next door, but practiced well and ascended to higher realms. For us then, that was liberation, and that was what I wanted from a world of dissatisfaction and suffering. Even though I wasn’t that pessimistic, the worried expressions on the faces of adults never escaped me. Society promised satisfying rewards for hard work, but no matter how much material gain there was, people who managed to climb to the top of the hierarchy were never happy. I realized this when I topped grade one.

Then, Grandma showed me pictures of people tortured in the hell realms, and I learned my first lesson in karma: that people had to pay for all their deeds.

But my brother was the complete opposite then, taking interest in soldier models and sci-fi; he used to read books about the Y2000 apocalypse. That freaked me out, as there would be no place to run. So I decided that spending the rest of my life in prayer was the most beneficial. But of course, I hadn’t finished grade five yet. Somehow, I made up a prayer to stop the apocalypse, that the suffering of the apocalypse should be removed from others and happen on me. I think this ripened my karma to meet the Dharma.

I started going to a local nunnery to recite Chenrezig mantra and sutra every afternoon when I was 11. Then I took refuge at 12 and started to become a regular gompa-goer. For four years I learned all the necessary rituals and chants in Chinese Buddhism and took bodhisattva vows at 14. I attended many courses in Buddhism as well. People talked about practicing Dharma, however, but no one had a subdued mind. I left the temple and went in search of the truth. The thought of this being a degenerate age and the Dharma was declining even made me suicidal!

I met with many teachers, but none fascinated me more than those from Amitabha Buddhist Centre. They were very open and the lamas were very compassionate. In the eyes of Lama Zopa Rinpoche and Dagpo Rinpoche you could see the glow of satisfaction that you wouldn’t see anywhere, not even with those who had the looks, the books and the riches. Here indeed was somebody who knew what it meant to practice Dharma. Even though Rinpoche’s accent was daunting at first, I was made to realize that what I thought had filled my head was just brain matter and not Dharma. Then, Rinpoche’s teachings on impermanence suddenly softened my heart, the act of letting go overwhelmed me. I wept with joy at having found the guru. Receiving initiation from Rinpoche and doing retreat filled me with wondrous experiences that really spurred me on. Then Rinpoche asked me to take ordination.

I had just turned 17. But Rinpoche had started telling many people that he wished I’d “go to India to receive training.” But I was hesitant as my parents would not let me go before I completed my studies, and my wish to be ordained wasn’t as strong as when I was younger, mainly because it seemed an impossible goal at that time. I had just started college.

Then graduation time came, and different prophecies started coming: that I would either do what I came to do or die. I started taking Eight Mahayana Precepts for a few months and had dreams of Tara telling me to find a particular person, whom I found and who eventually helped me to fulfill my ordination wish. My parents were not surprised in the least when I told them. The wait was long, but the sudden change of identity was in a flash.

I think ordination is more of a personal choice and comes at some point of time upon reflecting on the path. The sutras and tantras point toward an ordained life; even His Holiness the Dalai Lama said that the ordained person is the most suitable vessel to practice tantra. When the time came for me, every page I turned was screaming out to me to take ordination.

Being ordained is contribution toward peace to others; this is not a logo I tore off some campaign banner. Just as protecting the environment starts from the self, so do peace and altruism. One person can make a difference; the Buddha did and so did Hitler. If you believe in what you think, you can affect others, even if you are in some desolate place meditating.

People have to think seriously about what it means to be ordained. It should not be a fancy trip for the moment. People should not expect high realizations or easier meditation the moment they shave their heads and put on robes. On the contrary, you find that you have more time than before to work on your mind, something that needs adjusting to, like the first few days of solitary retreat. Suddenly you have so much time to face yourself, because you no longer have any need to attend to the distractions that you voluntarily gave up, because you had seen their faults and refused to associate with them anymore.

When you face yourself, ugly things come out. Because you no longer stimulate your senses with external distractions, suppressed emotions and mental states come out, just like in retreat. At that time, only Dharma can make you strong; you must pray strongly to the guru and Three Jewels that all mental states be transformed into mind-training food. Otherwise, if you give up this therapy and your disbelief in the eight worldly dharmas, then disrobing becomes very appealing.

For example, after so many years of putting on makeup, hair gel and being a bossy executive, suddenly you realize what it means to be an insignificant bag of pus and blood on that meditation cushion – what we all eventually will end up as. That time you either generate renunciation or you get depressed and freak out. So the mind has to be rooted very deeply in Dharma for it to work. You are not just joining a beach club or cruise to nowhere.