Flying Monks!
Posted: Mon Jul 22, 2019 7:03 am
A few years ago I was fortunate enough to visit the Tibetan plateau and drive with eight other westerners from Lhasa along what is known as 'the friendship route', to Katmandu in Nepal.
Along the route we visited a number of lamasaries and monasteries which though ancient and venerable, were firmly rooted in the reality of their life under Chinese 'occupation', and by no means beyond the reach of modernity in respect of the tech they were prepared to embrace in their mountain fastnesses (the sight of young novices sneaking crafty looks at their mobile phones as they sat in rows Om Manne Padme Homing under the watchful eyes of their elders did not escape us). Yet these are the places from which emanate stories of adepts performing miraculous feats of endurance and levitation, of lamas with superhuman powers of physical control and longevity, numerous in the writings and accounts that have passed down to us over the years.
What are we to make of these?
Easy as it is to brush these accounts aside with explanations featuring a mixture of deception (on the part of either the writer, the observer or indeed the performer of the 'trick') and or hallucination, at least some thought must be given to the (metaphorical) mechanics at work behind all of this. I once heard something of the nature that, in order to believe an account of the miraculous, one had to establish in ones mind whether the teller (assuming them to be of sound mind, granted) would have more to loose by the telling of a fantastical yarn than than by the not telling of one. If such an individual stood to loose more (in terms of reputation or indeed more tangible effects such as future promotion, societal standing etc) than they stood to gain by such a telling, then this would have to add weight to the idea that they at least, were in full belief of the veracity of the accounts they were giving.
Two eye witness accounts in particular I think worthy of note in respect of the above. The first I read in a newspaper some months before leaving for Tibet and concerns a British Army officer visiting a remote Lamasary in the nineteenth century. Informed that a highly respected elder was to visit the monastery in short order, the officer questioned how the elderly visitor would cope with the arduous journey and difficult prevailing weather conditions in order to make his visit. Told not to concern himself about this, later that morning he was summoned to a viewing platform high on the side of the mountains from which a vast vista of mountains and plateau could be seen. To his amazement he saw, in the distance, a diminutive figure approaching, to all intents and purposes leaping in huge steps from cloud to cloud until it arrived, in the form of a venerable lama, calm and dignified on the platform beside them.
The second somewhat similar story was told by no lesser a person than the current Dali Lama to an interviewer who had asked about the amazing feats reported to be possible to Buddhist adepts of high level. He reported that an eighty year old Buddhist nun, in sound mind and who he could not believe would have any reason to lie to him, had five years earlier shortly before her death, told him that as a younger nun she had visited a Lamasary and had witnessed the younger monks in training, jumping from one hill peak to another across the expanse of a wide valley.
In neither of these cases can I see that it would be likely that the tellers would be deliberately trying to deceive with their stories, and the one assumes hard headed army officer could only have had a somewhat cool reception to his tale; on this basis we must look then for a different explanation other than insincerity on the part of the teller.
Along the route we visited a number of lamasaries and monasteries which though ancient and venerable, were firmly rooted in the reality of their life under Chinese 'occupation', and by no means beyond the reach of modernity in respect of the tech they were prepared to embrace in their mountain fastnesses (the sight of young novices sneaking crafty looks at their mobile phones as they sat in rows Om Manne Padme Homing under the watchful eyes of their elders did not escape us). Yet these are the places from which emanate stories of adepts performing miraculous feats of endurance and levitation, of lamas with superhuman powers of physical control and longevity, numerous in the writings and accounts that have passed down to us over the years.
What are we to make of these?
Easy as it is to brush these accounts aside with explanations featuring a mixture of deception (on the part of either the writer, the observer or indeed the performer of the 'trick') and or hallucination, at least some thought must be given to the (metaphorical) mechanics at work behind all of this. I once heard something of the nature that, in order to believe an account of the miraculous, one had to establish in ones mind whether the teller (assuming them to be of sound mind, granted) would have more to loose by the telling of a fantastical yarn than than by the not telling of one. If such an individual stood to loose more (in terms of reputation or indeed more tangible effects such as future promotion, societal standing etc) than they stood to gain by such a telling, then this would have to add weight to the idea that they at least, were in full belief of the veracity of the accounts they were giving.
Two eye witness accounts in particular I think worthy of note in respect of the above. The first I read in a newspaper some months before leaving for Tibet and concerns a British Army officer visiting a remote Lamasary in the nineteenth century. Informed that a highly respected elder was to visit the monastery in short order, the officer questioned how the elderly visitor would cope with the arduous journey and difficult prevailing weather conditions in order to make his visit. Told not to concern himself about this, later that morning he was summoned to a viewing platform high on the side of the mountains from which a vast vista of mountains and plateau could be seen. To his amazement he saw, in the distance, a diminutive figure approaching, to all intents and purposes leaping in huge steps from cloud to cloud until it arrived, in the form of a venerable lama, calm and dignified on the platform beside them.
The second somewhat similar story was told by no lesser a person than the current Dali Lama to an interviewer who had asked about the amazing feats reported to be possible to Buddhist adepts of high level. He reported that an eighty year old Buddhist nun, in sound mind and who he could not believe would have any reason to lie to him, had five years earlier shortly before her death, told him that as a younger nun she had visited a Lamasary and had witnessed the younger monks in training, jumping from one hill peak to another across the expanse of a wide valley.
In neither of these cases can I see that it would be likely that the tellers would be deliberately trying to deceive with their stories, and the one assumes hard headed army officer could only have had a somewhat cool reception to his tale; on this basis we must look then for a different explanation other than insincerity on the part of the teller.