During her travels Freda also met a woman who was to become one of the most influential and respected teachers of our time, Pema Chödrön, disciple of Chögyam Trungpa and abbess of Gampo Abbey, in Nova Scotia, the first Tibetan monastery in America. Born Deirdre Blomfield-Brown in New York in 1936, she had been twice married and twice divorced before she met Freda. She was seriously considering taking robes, but as a mother with children she was conflicted. Pema Chödrön acknowledges that Freda played a leading role in helping her make up her mind.
“She encouraged me greatly. The fact that she was a mother herself before becoming a nun served as an example that I, with two teenage children, could also take robes. She was actually there as a mentor at my novice ordination with His Holiness Sixteenth Karmapa. And she continued to encourage and support me in my monastic life when I met her again in California a year later,” Pema Chödrön said.
Her other memories reveal a surprisingly frank and intimate aspect of Freda’s personality. “I remember she told me that after I was ordained, I should not get confused if I felt sexual energy. She said that due to my openness now as a nun I might be quite attractive to men. She advised me just to experience the sexual energy as similar to being a fresh young flower with lots of juice and to let the energy open me up to the world. As she put it, ‘Feel the energy but keep your vows faithfully.’
“Of course, it was highly unusual to see a Western Buddhist nun at that time. She was an inspiring woman, given her strength of character and the esteem in which His Holiness Karmapa, and the other monks, held her. Sister Palmo was very strong and daring, willing to go where others had not, but also on the surface a warm but proper British lady.”
Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, who had arrived in the United States four years previously, was already taking America by storm with his brilliant teachings wrapped in very unconventional packaging. Greeting Freda in a suit and tie, Trungpa was a very different person from the young man who had lived with her and her family in Delhi. As an opening gesture he introduced her to his nine-year-old son, Ősel, conceived by a Tibetan nun on the roof of her very own Young Lamas Home School in Dalhousie. Freda had had no idea. He also walked with a limp, the result of a car accident in 1969 while he was still abbot of Samye Ling in Scotland. He was fond of alcohol, often appearing drunk in public, and was openly having affairs with some of his students, all with the knowledge of his English wife, Diane Pybus, whom he had married when she was sixteen.
In spite of his somewhat scandalous behavior, Freda’s intuition that Trungpa had special gifts for transmitting Buddhism to the West was being borne out. By leaving his old friend Akong Rinpoche in Scotland and moving to America he rightly believed that he would be able to express the Buddha’s teachings in a totally fresh way, unfettered by the rigid traditionalism of Tibetan monastic culture. Now his love and command of English, including poetry, honed at Oxford, was evident in his teachings and books, which revealed not only his grasp of the language but his understanding of the Western mentality. By the time Freda and the Karmapa arrived, Trungpa had already captured the Americans’ imagination with his best-selling book Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism and his brilliant series of lectures titled “Crazy Wisdom,” which he declared was “the heart blood of his lineage” and which he delivered to an audience of some fifteen hundred people.
His flair and imagination was also evident in the way he linked the Buddha’s message and methodology to calligraphy, haiku, dressage, ikebana, theater, cinema, and psychology. His brilliance and success were called into question by his behavior, however.
Freda’s impressions of her dazzling, unorthodox adopted son in America are recorded in her letters to her husband. As always, she was not keen to judge, but that did not stop her from reprimanding him like a recalcitrant child who needed to be put right.
“Trungpa in his suit and tie is different from our tulku floating about in robes, but in essence the same. A rather stronger aspect, both smiling and semiwrathful. He is doing a vast and highly significant type of mind training. It’s Dharma work, putting things right at the grass roots. His methods are both tough and sometimes cutting, perhaps a shade too much so—and perhaps that was why my visit and the Mother touch was needed at that point,” she wrote to BPL.
To Trungpa’s students, however, she adopted a far more diplomatic, conciliatory tone: “Trungpa teaches in a certain way. He’s got a very wrathful way of bringing you to your own understanding,” she told students at Trungpa’s center Tail of the Tiger (Karmê Chöling) in Vermont. “The quality of the lama is a merciful heart, like the heart of Chenrezig, but sometimes the merciful heart is disguised in an angry form. He can really expose you to many things in yourself that you are unconscious of. That’s the wind removing the clouds. As Rinpoche says, ‘Idiot compassion is not the point.’ There is a greater compassion, which can manifest in many ways,” she said.
Freda was not only serving the Karmapa during her overseas trips, however; she was also building up her own spiritual base for the future. She actually opened a small center, Tangye Karma Ling, in San Mateo, California, with the help of a devoted student, Barbara Petty, and confided that she hoped to go there regularly in the future to teach. Sadly the center later burned down, causing much of Freda’s written work to be lost.
“The center belongs to the Karmapa, and I have come in as teacher, the first member of the sangha. I had to make a decision at this stage of my life. I really shouldn’t be doing all this touring. California is perfect, it is so open and the climate is good, unlike England, where I could have taught,” she said in a radio interview.
Freda was also busy giving lectures, radio interviews, and a large number of initiations in her own right, as she had in South Africa.
A letter to BPL, now living in Italy, excitedly reveals her American agenda and the spiritual openness she found there. “I taught a great deal on mantra, the Divine Mother, and the deeper philosophy of the naturally pure mind (Gyud Lama, or Mahayana Uttaratantra Shastra). I also created the climate for the coming of Chenrezig (the Buddha of Compassion) in his earthly form, His Holiness Karmapa. There is such a vital new life movement in the States that the old religions in their Christian form have no meaning—which many Church people themselves recognize. There is a great deal of interreligious fellowship among the discerning. Looking at it from a Buddhist point of view, it is fertile for the perennially new Dharma, grounded in reality and not too tied to Tibetan, Japanese, or any national idiom.”
Illustrating her point about the readiness of America to accept Buddhism, she gave a White Tara initiation (the female Buddha of Compassion in Action) in New York, which was simultaneously broadcast on local radio. It was an unprecedented break with tradition and a real entry of Buddhism into modern Western life.
Through the airwaves Freda’s voice rang out: “Visualize enlightenment in the form of the Holy Mother, in order to receive all the blessings,” she said. “The mind is a tremendous thing. If we can remove the veils, the obscurations, we can see the mirror-like quality of its pure state,” she continued. “The Divine Mother helps us calm our minds and brings us the blessing of transcendental knowledge. She also increases life and gives us more energy.”
She went on to explain further the esoteric meaning behind Tara: “Tara comes in twenty-one basic forms, whose primary functions are to remove all fears. There is a multiplicity of forms, but in fact there is just one. All is Buddha, all is Divine Mother. It’s like fragmentation of light into prismatic colors.”
In a moving conclusion to the broadcast Freda ended the initiation with a demonstration of her own motherly concern for all living beings: “I send blessings of the Buddha to every home and garden. There are many lonely people who listen to the radio. I send special prayers to them, and to the old and the sick, and to those who live in the radio more than more fortunate people do. I pray that by the blessings of the Buddha, Dharma (teachings), and Sangha they may cross the ocean of suffering and that all others may
cross it too.”
If anyone was privately wondering on what authority Freda was dispensing such blessings and initiations, she addressed the issue herself, with due modesty:
“Every teacher before giving an empowerment must speak of their authority and competence to do so. I have heard the Dalai Lama speak very humbly of his own attainment before conferring a great initiation he was about to give in India. With this in mind it is hard for me to present my own accomplishments. Simply believe I have the authority and the ability to bestow this initiation.”
Regardless of whether her audience simply believed her authority or not, Freda ventured farther into the realm of Vajrayana, known as the Diamond Vehicle, the Tantric Buddhism exclusive to Tibet. On several occasions she donned the mantle of the Tantric master, conferring these advanced initiations into the most esoteric deities of the Buddhist pantheon, reading the texts first in Tibetan and then in the English translation. It was further evidence of her spiritual status and personal attainment. Modern American audiences may not have been aware how highly irregular it was for a nun to be performing such rituals in public, high Tantric initiations being strictly the domain of the lamas. In truth what Freda was doing was extraordinary.
She taught the highly secret Six Yogas of Naropa, a system of yogic exercises designed to enhance enlightenment. And, ever keen to promote the female face of the Buddha, she conferred the initiation of Vajrayogini, one of the most powerful female Tantric deities, as well as that of Niguma, an eleventh-century yogini famed for founding a lineage and for her supernatural powers.
Following one Tara initiation she gave in America, Freda revealed that the Karmapa had told her she was named after an eighth-century nun in India, a Sister Palmo, who was associated with Tara and who was bestowed with exceptional caring skills. Freda had translated a text about this original Sister Palmo, which she now made available. One of the attendees read it out as a tribute to Freda:
“One should imagine the form of a woman with yellow robe who lived in a hermitage, following the path of the yogi, dwelling in a forest, living a life of seclusion and meditation. Gelongma Palmo showed herself in her outer form as the bikshuni—a fully ordained nun with an ushnisha mound on her head, like the Buddha. In her inner form she manifested as Tara, green in color, removing obstacles and hindrances (to enlightenment). Thinking of Gelongma Palmo in this form, we should recollect the very beautiful initiation of the Green Mother, which we experienced this morning.”
The references and allusions were obvious. Freda clearly identified with the eighth-century nun, and she wanted others to see her that way as well.
On her last trip to the United States, exhausted, she managed to find time for a solitary two-week meditation retreat at Mount Shasta. Eyewitnesses reported that she emerged quite radiant. The retreat coincided with her tenth anniversary as a nun, after which she was regaled with a large party, complete with cake, candles, and musicians. Allen Ginsberg and Lama Karma Thinley were among the guests.
Tired, but determined to complete the tour, she accompanied the Karmapa to Europe. The schedule was as busy as ever. Among the spiritual programs, Freda organized a meeting for the Karmapa with Pope Paul VI, and found time to visit BPL in Italy. In Scotland she went to Samye Ling, to catch up with Akong Rinpoche, and popped in to see her niece, Pauline Watson, the daughter of her late beloved brother, John, who was living nearby with her family.
Pauline remembers the visit well. “The neighbors couldn’t believe their eyes, this bald white woman in red robes. All the curtains were twitching. My overriding impression was one of spirituality. It came into the room with her. We sat down in a circle and she led us in saying a mantra. It was quite lovely. There was a calmness about her, and she was extremely kind, especially to the children. She stayed with us for a few days and took us to Samye Ling.”
Touching base with her own culture, she listened to carols sung by the sublime King’s College Choir in Cambridge, then bought Earl Grey tea, and a Beatrix Potter book for her grandchildren.
Time was running out. Freda was exhausted, overweight, and clearly unwell. A radio recording she made in 1975 reveals her gasping for breath. In San Francisco a doctor diagnosed a heart condition, and those close to her felt a poignancy when she left. Trungpa Rinpoche in particular saw what was coming. On saying farewell to his surrogate mother, mentor and friend, he said, “I shall not see you again, but after the passing of time we shall be united.”
By the time Freda and the Karmapa reached Paris, her exhaustion was total. She came down with a heavy bout of flu, which laid her very low. But to her it had all been worth it. “Thousands of people have now seen His Holiness Karmapa and witnessed the Black Crown ceremony, which has extraordinary vibrations and carries a liberating effect on the mind,” she said.
As usual she had given it her all—traveling many thousands of miles, dispensing spiritual words in many different cities, towns, and villages across the Western world, and speaking to countless people. “I’ve been pretty besieged,” she admitted, “but it’s comforting for people to have someone to speak to in their own language.”
When it was over, she limped back to Sikkim and her room high up in the monastery of Rumtek. “I always want to come back to India. It feels like coming home,” she said.
17
Last Days
RELIEVED TO BE BACK in “the motherland” and her room in Rumtek Monastery, close to her guru, Freda’s health seemed to improve. She visited her children, went into another retreat, studied and translated Tibetan texts, read the histories of the early Karmapas, and took up her pen to answer the huge correspondence from the Tibetan Friendship Group that had piled up in her absence. She was happy.
“The healing vibes from H. H. Karmapa have completed the healing process and I am ninety percent back to normal. Also the care that Ranga and Kabir gave me was wonderful, and Umi is always so sweet. Really it is a blessing of the guru and the Triple Gem that this loving attitude surrounds us in these later years,” she wrote fondly to BPL in February 1976.
“The retreat was good and there’s a creative way to letter writing. I quite enjoy it. So many need help and advice. I’m concerned with getting the texts out as cheaply and beautifully as possible.”
With the faithful Pema Zangmo taking care of her immediate needs, life in Rumtek was satisfying. She had developed a good relationship with many of the locals outside the monastery, who mainly knew her as the mother of the increasingly famous, good-looking film star Kabir Bedi, and her life had settled into a satisfying rhythm:
4:00 a.m., wake up, meditate
7:00 a.m., breakfast (two pieces of toast and a cup of tea)
8:00 a.m., meditation until the Karmapa called her to translate or do other work
11:30 a.m., lunch (two chapatis, vegetables, and occasionally a little meat), followed by letter writing, translating texts, responding to a multitude of requests for help
3:00 p.m., Thrangu Rinpoche, her abbot, arrived to study and translate advanced teachings with her
6:00 p.m., a private Mahakala Puja (an advanced Tantric protector practice) with H. H. Karmapa and his heart disciples, Shamar Rinpoche, Situ Rinpoche, Jamgon Kongtrul Rinpoche, and Gyaltsab Rinpoche
8:00 p.m., cup of milk, more meditation
11:00 p.m., bed
At sixty-five years of age Freda was thinking of her old age. With money donated to her during her world tours, plans were afoot to build a small cottage, “the Hermitage on the Hill,” close to but separated from the bustle of the monastery. The dream of finally having a place of her own where she could live out the remainder of her days more quietly was hugely enticing.
“The Hermitage is perched on a hill with a really lovely view and pure air. There is a room for me and Pema Zangmo each, a small shrine room with bunks and pillows on the floor, a bathroom, and kitchen. And, if the pennies flow in, there will be a guest room on the roof with modern conveniences. I’m also designing a six-foot veranda where I can sit ou
tside during the rain. Of course, I’ll have to pipe in water. And there will be a garden. I’m so looking forward to gardening again. It’s exciting to plan it,” she wrote enthusiastically to BPL.
Her dream was more than deserved. Now an elderly woman, having lived in small one-room monastic cells for years and, before that, generously sharing her homes, be it The Huts or Delhi flats with umpteen others—friends and strangers alike—she had earned a comfortable space of her own.
Rewards were coming from other directions as well. In the same year, October 1976, her old friend Indira Gandhi, the Indian prime minister, bestowed on Freda one of forty-six awards given to “foreign women who had distinguished themselves through outstanding service to India.” In Freda’s case, she was recognized for her dedication and achievements in the fields of education and social welfare.
Her trophy was a silver box containing, bizarrely, four volumes of The Spirit of India, a biography of Indira Gandhi herself, including her speeches and writings! The inscription read, “To Sister Palmo. In the International Women’s Year, the women of India recall your service to India and present this to you as a token of their gratitude.”
Publicly, Freda expressed her delight. She immediately informed her old college, St. Hugh’s, Oxford, so they could publish her achievement in their newsletter, and wrote again to BPL telling him the good news, revealing in both cases a curious predilection for celebrity that seemed at odds with her robes and vows of renunciation.
“I was frankly surprised that after my fourteen years in the mountains they had remembered me, and touched too. I was also delighted that Freda Bedi had slipped so naturally into Sister Palmo in the Indian ‘scene’ too, as the anomaly is that Sister Palmo is now fairly well known in the Buddhist world of the West, but she has not yet settled into the consciousness of the Indian plains.”
Privately however, Kabir claims his mother was furious.
“She was enraged and hurt that she was regarded as a foreign woman. She had become an Indian national shortly after arriving and thought of herself as Indian. Ever since she’d been a young woman, she had given herself to India. She was planning to refuse the award, but then saw the inevitability of government categories and reasonably conceded that she did have a white skin and was born in England,” he said.
The Revolutionary Life of Freda Bedi Page 18
