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It was my great good luck that I had not only been well prepared by Kachenla's patient teachings but that I had found a friend in a learned Mongolian Lama, who knew English and helped me with my Tibetan studies in exchange for P膩li and practice in English. He had studied for about twenty years in one of the great monastic universities near Lhasa, where he acquired the degree of `G茅sh茅', and he had subsequently worked with the well-known scholar Von Sta毛l-Holstein in Peking. His name was Inubden Sherab, though he was generally referred to as `G茅sh茅 la'.

With him as interpreter I was able to converse with the Guru, though --- as I was to find out soon --- the Guru was in no need of an interpreter as he was able to read my thoughts like an open book. As he knew that I had devoted the greater part of my adult life to the study of Buddhism, he did not waste time in explaining doctrinal points, but went straight to the practice of meditation, which he regarded as more important than all theoretical knowledge. It was, indeed, also the most important thing to me.

So far I had practised meditation following my own intuition as well as certain instructions which I had found in the sacred texts --- especially in the Satipa峁�峁環膩na-Sutta (which in those days had not yet been popularised in the modern, rather one-sided fashion of the Rangoon School). All the more I felt eager to see the further steps and to be introduced into the traditional methods which could guide one step by step into the deeper realms of meditative experience.

On the day on which Tomo G茅sh茅 Rimpoch茅 formally accepted me as his Chela in a special ritual of initiation, in which I received my first mantra, I realised one of the most important things that hitherto had been lacking in my religious life: the impetus of a spiritual force that required no philosophical argument or intellectual justification, because it was not based on theoretical knowledge, but on fact and direct experience, and thus gave one the certainty that what one was striving after was not merely an abstract idea, a mere shadow of a thought, but an attainable state of mind, the only `tangible' reality of which we can speak.

And yet the experience through which this `tangible' reality is transmitted is so intangible that to describe the details of an initiation and the essential experiences connected with it would be as inadequate as describing in words the contents or the impact of music. Indeed, any description of factual details would destroy the very basis of the emotional appeal and significance, because `emotion', in the word's truest meaning, is that which moves our mind, intensifies and awakens it to a higher life and a wider awareness, which finally turn into Enlightenment, a state of pure Light --- which at the same time is pure, unhindered, infinite movement and highest tranquility. Movement is the nature of the mind as much as it is the nature of light. All that tries to arrest, to hinder, or to confine the free, infinite movement of the mind, is ignorance --- whether it be caused by conceptual thought, desires, or attachments. Tranquility is not standstill, it does not consist in stopping the mind, but in not obstructing its movement by artificial concepts (or by breaking its flow by dissecting its movement into momentary phases in the futile attempt to analyse its nature). This does not mean that we should give up thinking or conceptual thought --- which would be impossible --- but that we should not get caught up in it.

Just as a single note in a melody has no meaning in itself but only in relationship to preceding and following notes --- i.e. as a moment in a meaningful or organic movement, which cannot be held on to without destroying the melody --- in the same way we cannot stop thinking or hold on to a particular concept without destroying its value. The moment we try to analyse, to conceptualise, or to rationalise the details and experiences of initiation, we are dealing only with dead fragments, but not with the living flow of force, which is expressed in the Tibetan word `dam-ts'hig', the inner relationship between Guru and Chela and the spontaneous movement, emotion, and realisation on which this relationship is based.

There is nothing secret in the process of initiation, but everybody has to experience it for himself. By trying to explain what goes beyond words we only succeed in dragging the sacred down to the level of the profane, thus losing our own `dam-ts'hig' without benefiting others. By glibly talking about the mystery, we destroy the purity and spontaneity of our inner attitude and the deep reverence which is the key to the temple of revelations. Just as the mystery of love can only unfold when it is withdrawn from the eyes of the crowd, and as a lover will not discuss the beloved with outsiders, in the same way the mystery of inner transformation can only take place if the secret force of its symbols is hidden from the profane eyes and the idle talk of the world.

What is communicable are only those experiences that belong to the plane of our mundane consciousness, and beyond this we may be able to speak about the results and conclusions to which our experiences have led us, or about the teachings in which the experiences of former generations and of our Gurus were summarised. I have tried to do this in a previous book of mine, and I will, therefore, confine myself in the present volume as far as possible to my personal impressions and the most memorable events and personalities that had a lasting influence on my inner life.

Among those personalities, Tomo G茅sh茅 Rimpoch茅 was undoubtedly the greatest. The inner bond which was created on the day on which I received the 补产丑颈蝉茅办补, my first and therefore most important initiation, became a constant source of strength and inspiration. How much the Guru would be able to help me by his presence, even beyond his death, this I guessed as little in those days as I was conscious of the fact that he was one of the most highly revered religious teachers of Tibet and that for millions of people his name was equated with the highest attainments on the Buddha's spiritual path.

My ignorance of his position, however, had the advantage that it enabled me to observe impartially and uninfluenced by others, some of the extraordinary faculties of the Guru, which convinced me that he really possessed the yogic powers (siddhi) which traditionally were ascribed to the saints of the past. In fact, it all came about quite by chance, when one day my Mongolian friend and I were discussing with the Guru certain aspects of meditation, as we often used to do. Our questions were mostly concerned with problems arising out of practical experience. In the course of this, it happened that my friend had some personal questions to ask, and since I could not follow the trend of the discussion, I allowed myself to let my thoughts wander in other directions. In the course of this it came to my mind that the day might not be far when the Guru would have to leave in order to return to his main monastery beyond the border, and that years might pass before I had another opportunity to sit at his feet. And in a sudden impulse, I formulated in my mind the following request: `Please give me a visible sign of the inner bond that unites me with you, my Guru, something that beyond all words reminds me everyday of your kindness and of the ultimate aim: be it a small image of the Buddha blessed by your hands or whatever you might think fit …'. Hardly had I pronounced these words in my mind when the Guru, suddenly interrupting his talk, turned to me and said: `Before I leave I shall give you a small Buddha-image as remembrance'.

I was thunderstruck and hardly able to stutter a few words of thanks --- partly from joy and partly from being taken aback at the effect of my thought. At the same time I could not help feeling a little ashamed that I had dared to put the Guru to the test in such a direct way; because as little as I would have dared to interrupt the Guru's talk with audible words, would I have dared to do this even in thoughts, if I had really believed that he could hear them as clearly as if I had uttered them aloud.

That the Guru reacted as he did, even while his attention was absorbed by other things, proved to me that he was able to perceive other people's thoughts not only when his mind was directed towards them or as the result of a conscious effort, but that he possessed the faculty which in the Buddhist Scriptures is described as the `divine ear' or the faculty of clairaudience, which enabled him to hear and to respond to thoughts that were directed to him, as other people would hear spoken words. And, what was more, I had not addressed him in Tibetan but in my own language, which shows that what was audible to the Guru were not the words but their meaning or the impulse that prompted them.

When finally the day of leave-taking came I found myself in a state of great tension. Weeks had passed since that memorable talk, but on no other occasion had the Guru mentioned this subject again, and I naturally had not dared to remind him, knowing fully well that he was as conscious of his promise as I myself. Since he knew how much it meant to me, I could only think that perhaps he wanted to test my patience and my faith in him, and that made me all the more determined to remain silent.

But when during the last days of his stay at Yi-Gah Ch枚-ling, all his time was taken up by people who came to receive his blessings before he would leave, I felt afraid that the Guru might be too occupied to remember my request or that other circumstances had prevented him from carrying out his intention.

How great was therefore my surprise and my joy when during our last meeting --- even before I could say a word about this matter --- he handed me a small but exquisitely finished terracotta statue of Buddha 艢膩kyamuni and told me that he had kept this image in his hands during his daily meditations.

Now I realised the greatness of his gift and the reason for its delay, and while receiving it from his hands, it was only with the greatest effort that I controlled my tears. I bowed down, unable to speak, and then I felt his hands resting on my head with great tenderness; and again a wave of bliss streamed through my whole being and gave me the certainty that I would never be separated from the Guru, though a thousand miles might lie between us.

The little image has since been my constant companion: it has accompanied me over countless snow-clad passes in and beyond the Himalayas, it has roamed with me the deserted highlands of the Chang-Thang and the fertile valleys of South and Central Tibet, it has saved me in difficult situations in Western Tibet, when the Guru's seal, with which it had been consecrated, gave evidence of the fact that I was not a Chinese agent, but a personal pupil of Tomo G茅sh茅 Rimpoch茅; and in 1948, it pacified the armed tribesmen who surrounded our camp with hostile intentions and left with the Gurus blessings, only to come back with gifts and asking that also their women and children and their flocks might be blessed.

But there is something more to this little image, something that is as important to me as the Guru's seal and benediction: namely the fact that it was not created by some unknown artisan, but by the hands of my Guru's humblest and most devoted disciple Kachenla, whose remembrance is for me inseparable from that of Tomo G茅sh茅 Rimpoch茅. During the years that elapsed before the Guru's return to Yi-Gah Ch枚- Ling, Kachenla remained my faithful friend and Gurubhai (i.e. one who has become a brother by having been initiated by the same Guru), and whenever I came back to Yi-Gah Ch枚-Ling either to stay in or near the monastery, it was Kachenla who would receive me and look after me, especially when later on a younger caretaker was appointed for the main temple, while Kachenla took charge of the Gurus private apartments and their shrines. Thus, when according to the Guru's wishes I made use of the privilege to stay in those hallowed rooms, it was again Kachenla who surrounded me with his love and care and made me feel more than ever that the Guru was with us, as in the days of our first meeting.