Dorji Sempa Mantra


O Dorje Sempa, protect the Samaya
Reveal yourself as the Dorje Sempa!
May you remain firm in me
Grant me complete satisfaction
Grow within me (increase the positive within me)
Be loving towards me
Grant me all the siddhis
Show me all the karmas (activities)
Make my mind good, virtuous and auspicious!(The heart essence, seed syllable of Vajrasattva)
(Symbolises the four immeasurables, the four empowerments, the four joys, and the four kayas) (The exclamation of joy at this accomplishment)
O blessed one,
who embodies all the Tathagatas with Diamond Mind Do not abandon me
Grant me the realization of the Vajra Nature O great Samaya sattva Make me one with you

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Force of a thousand cranes be with you…

My fundraising page for the Force Cancer Charity so far has made over £900, including gift aid, which is more than I ever imagined it would. I have no words to describe how grateful I am for all your kind messages and generous donations of your hard earned cash to a worthy cause. You are all truly amazing and very kind. 

Time to say… Thank You!

To show my appreciation for your generosity, I offered to fold a one thousand origami cranes to help reach one thousand pounds. The challenge was to make the target amount and complete the Origami Cranes by the time my wife finished the course of her treatments. She completed all her treatments in early December 2017 and so far all looking good. I however, have not achieved to raise £1000 yet and hopefully, my origami cranes will help do that.

After several months of folding, I have just finished folding 1000 origami cranes. It has taken a little longer than I planned, but I am happy to have finally folded my last crane (although I’ve folded a few more than 1000, just in case I miscounted them).

Now I need your suggestions on how I can turn these cranes into a donation for
FORCE Cancer Support, who are at the forefront of helping people get through this dreadful illness. We have benefited from this charity so much and this is but a small gesture of gratitude from all of us.

Why 1000 Origami Cranes….

In ancient Japanese mythology, legend has it that anyone folding a thousand origami cranes without any help will be granted a wish. My wish is to wish for a speedy recovery for my wife and everyone suffering from this devastating illness. May their loved ones be given the strength to help support each other to get through this.

The story so far…

Back in April-May, I decided to have my hair shaved off in support of my dear wife undergoing chemotherapy treatments and raise money for the FORCE Cancer Charity at the same time. With the help of my boys and our local hairdresser, I shaved off my hair. I wrote on my blog page to raise money which was then taken up by Force and posted on their page. Here are the links to those pages:

Head Shave for Cancer Charity

Hair Today and Gone Tomorrow

Shear Class Fundraising from Tenzin

You can sponsor me…

I am keeping my fundraising page open until the end of January 2018. Please share this page as it will help raise an awareness of the great work by FORCE supporting cancer patients and the effect of this devastating illness.

If you feel up to donating, big or small, it will be greatly appreciated and will be helping to fund a fantastic cause. I really appreciate all your support. Thank you so very much.

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Happy New Year 2018

Wishing you and your family a very Happy New Year 2018 and may this new year greet you with peace, health and happiness. Tashi Delek!

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Happy Christmas 2017

May the star of Christmas be your guiding light that you may never walk in obscurity.

Wishing you and your family a very Happy Christmas and may this joyful season greet you with health and happiness for the new year 2018.

Tashi Delek!

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As the year comes to an end this year it is good to reflect and share this Buddhist prayer of forgiveness with everyone. Please feel free to reblog this page if you wish it.

If I have harmed anyone in any way either knowingly or unknowingly
through my own confusions I ask their forgiveness.
If anyone has harmed me in any way either knowingly or unknowingly
through their own confusions I forgive them.
And if there is a situation I am not yet ready to forgive
I forgive myself for that.
For all the ways that I harm myself, negate, doubt, belittle myself,
judge or be unkind to myself through my own confusions
I forgive myself.

Credit: Someone emailed me this Buddhist prayer of forgiveness which I really like and wanted to share it with you. I don’t know who wrote it or whether it has been translated from Buddhist texts.

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The Power of Sacred Mantras

Reciting these six syllables of Om Ma Ni Pad Me Hum purifies our ego, jealousy, passion, ignorance, greed, and hatred. Tibetan Buddhists believe that chanting this mantra out loud or silently to oneself, invokes powerful benevolent attention and blessings of Chenrezig (Avalokitesvara), the embodiment of compassion. 

While walking, driving or meditating you can recite these six heart mantras of Avalokitesvara which will bring untold blessings and good fortune by removing all negative energies. As you recite each mantra, focus on its core meaning of what it represents and with every breath, you exhale, release all your negative energy with it to be dissolved into the vast expanse of emptiness.

  • When the syllable Om is recited let go off all your ego and it’s clinging nature.
  • When the syllable Ma is recited let go off all your jealousy and its nature of greed and burning desire.
  • When the syllable Ni is recited let go off all your passion and its nature of greed, lust, desire, and attachment.
  • When the syllable Pad is recited let go off all your ignorance and its nature of suffering, pain, and unsatisfactoriness.
  • When the syllable Me is recited let go off all your greed and its nature of wanting more and holding on.
  • When the syllable Hum is recited let go off all your hatred and its nature of anger, fire, ignorance, attachment, and aversion.

The power of these six syllables has the immense capacity to dissolve all negative energy and cultivate all positive energy in us if we have the wisdom to grasp it. Here is one of the stories I found on the Buddhist website a while ago which conveys the power of these mantras.

A devoted meditator, after years concentrating on a particular mantra, had attained enough insight to begin teaching. The student’s humility was far from perfect, but the teachers at the monastery were not worried.

A few years of successful teaching left the meditator with no thoughts about learning from anyone; but upon hearing about a famous hermit living nearby, the opportunity was too exciting to be passed up.

The hermit lived alone on an island at the middle of a lake, so the meditator hired a man with a boat to row across to the island. The meditator was very respectful of the old hermit. As they shared some tea made with herbs the meditator asked him about his spiritual practice. The old man said he had no spiritual practice, except for a mantra which he repeated all the time to himself. The meditator was pleased: the hermit was using the same mantra he used himself — but when the hermit spoke the mantra aloud, the meditator was horrified!

“What’s wrong?” asked the hermit.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid you’ve wasted your whole life! You are pronouncing the mantra incorrectly!”

“Oh, Dear! That is terrible. How should I say it?”

The meditator gave the correct pronunciation, and the old hermit was very grateful, asking to be left alone so he could get started right away. On the way back across the lake the meditator, now confirmed as an accomplished teacher, was pondering the sad fate of the hermit.

“It’s so fortunate that I came along. At least he will have a little time to practice correctly before he dies.” Just then, the meditator noticed that the boatman was looking quite shocked, and turned to see the hermit standing respectfully on the water, next to the boat.

“Excuse me, please. I hate to bother you, but I’ve forgotten the correct pronunciation again. Would you please repeat it for me?”

“You obviously don’t need it,” stammered the meditator; but the old man persisted in his polite request until the meditator relented and told him again the way he thought the mantra should be pronounced.

The old hermit was saying the mantra very carefully, slowly, over and over, as he walked across the surface of the water back to the island.

Om Ma Ni Pad Me Hum

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My cousin Namgyal Tshering from Bhutan wrote this piece which is a typical ghost storytelling most Bhutanese people would have grown up listening to and be completely petrified. He shared it on his Facebook page and with his permission, I am now sharing it with you; see what you think. He is a very good writer and he frequently writes for Writers Association of Bhutan (WAB) group on Facebook. He is an author of  “Dragon Delights – A Rosary of Poems” which was published in Bhutan recently. So here is the story… 

(Not to be read by chicken hearted )

The road appeared wet and slippery in the glare of the light. I pressed the break lightly. I can barely see five meters ahead through the mist. I was speeding through the road by Lamperi Park gate turning gently to the right. The restaurant above the road was closed but the lights inside were still glowing. ‘I should coffee there someday’ I thought.

The pickup jeep loaded with meat I had closely followed below Dochula was too fast for me to follow in the mist. I could see the stain of blood on its rear when I got closer, but it raced ahead as we turned below Lamperi stretch. Blood reminded me of massacre scene from Texas Chainsaw Massacre film I watched weeks ago.

I am a racer usually, and friends have told me I am either too good or little too reckless. I have this urge to show the world that Bhutan has its own Michael Schumacher! I drive little too fast for my age but I am not really reckless.

Driving in the rain, mist, and dark has been unusually my only naturally slowing down mechanism on a driving journey. Twirls of mist filled the space between me and the fading rear lights of the pickup truck. I cursed my weakening eyesight. Reading made me rich with literary aptitude but at the cost of a burnt retinal cell. Suddenly I felt lonely driving alone on a quiet night shrouded in mist and the hiss of the passing wind. The multicoloured frill of clothes hanging from the right rear mirror flapped against the window pane. Droplets of mist settled on the windshield. My breath clouded the glass from within and I had to wipe with my hand.

I was stretching forward over the wheel trying to check if there are any oversized rocks on the road. A few months ago I had run over a rock in the fog and had to repair forewheel arm. Unable to see the road clearly I slowed further, snaking at 20 kilometers an hour.

As I turned left into the gorge, a sudden eerie surge stilled my heart, fingers froze on the steering. At least four fatal accidents were reported in the area in the last thirteen months. The dozen of flags on my left on the roadside reminded me of the dead. I muttered a ‘Benzer Guru…’ almost breathlessly. I longed for another vehicle to pass by from either side.

The fifty meter curve from the wooded gorge felt like a forever stretch.

Just as I was about to appear out from the hillside, I saw a woman sitting on the culvert. In the brightness of the headlight, it was not impossible to know the man from the woman. She covered her palms against the light. I was sure she waited to get a lift or was dropped by the pickup. Her strap bound baggage was on the other culvert on her right. ‘ A company at the right time’ I thought. An explosion of relief from the eerie feeling made me calm.

I honked twice with a guilty feeling that I was seeking a female passenger. She raised her other hand and cut the light on her face. Like a streak of meteor sinister suspicion struck me. I was asking myself what if she sat near me and gnarled fangs and rolled ruddy eyes.

I was just a few meters close when I realised I was hitting the first culvert. I turned right like lighting and at that instant in the glaring shift of light saw her stand and leap off the road. ‘O’ My God.’ I said louder than I can yell. I grazed on the front bumper before I could brake to slow, and skidded on the roadside sand.

I glanced left. No one was there. I opened the window more out of concern than by chaotic panic. Cold October breeze sent the shiver across my face. Like the instincts of runaway driver after hitting a goat on Assam national highway, I pulled the gear and accelerated forward with a sudden thrust. ‘Namgyal! You killed the woman.’ I was vexing myself loud in my head. I peeked at the rear mirror, little out of fear anticipating to see a bloodied body behind. There was none. I took a breath of relief. The relief was short lived. Sinister fear of the haunting fired in my head. I raced. I was Schumacher again.

As I turned the hillside to the open, I relaxed my fingers on the steering. It ached. The mist was thinning and I could see lights of Nalanda Monastery on the other side atop a mountain to the West. The sight was more comforting. As I turned the curve and left, I looked into the rear mirror again to ensure I had not killed someone. It was at that moment fear froze me into the mirror. The woman with the strap baggage was standing on the road at the curve behind me. She was waving at me to wait. It was her I had no doubt. Although only a mirror image I was sure she was alive. A storm of confusion, fear, and relief almost gave me a heart attack.

A barbarous fear blinded my thought so much so that, seconds later I was cutting through the night like a meteor. I didn’t look in the mirror again, nor on to my sides. The fear of seeing her sitting behind or beside was a killing experience. My eyes bulged on the road. I was thoughtless. I mumbled ‘Om Ah Hum..’ or so I thought.

My empty car felt like a haunted mansion. Every creak and rattle could be heard like a thunder. Even my own breath through the nose was like a rumble in the Brazillian Bronx.

The practice of prayers reminded me it is only my imagination. Yet, it was scary. I was telling myself that dead cannot touch a man of prayers, but ‘what if I killed someone.’ I was asking myself even as I entered Thinleygang Market.

Arriving into the light and seeing few people playing at carrom outside convinced me I was not dead instead. It was like reaching home after getting lost for years into the mist.

(Note: And now, if you ask whether this story is factual or fiction; I would not answer for two reasons; that I don’t want to deride common tales of sightings on the road by some obscure travellers, the other reason is to encourage writers to wean their imagination with ease to entertain ignominious readers. To me its an irrational story to listen to people if we cannot avoid travelling the road.)

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