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Benjamin Bogin T H E DR E A DL O C K S T R E AT I S E : O N TA N T R I C HAIRSTYLES IN T I B E TA N BU D DH I S M i. “surely unusual for a monk” On August 2, 1936, en route to Lhasa as part of Sir Basil Gould’s British Diplomatic Mission, Frederick Spencer Chapman took a photograph of seven men standing in the courtyard of a monastery.1 Six of them are easily identified as monks, their hair shaved close to the head. The man in the center, however, stands out. In contrast to the dark monastic robes of the three men on either side of him, he wears white robes, and the large shawl wrapped over his left shoulder is white with a dark stripe along either edge. He gazes directly at the camera, right hand held before his chest with the tips of the second and third fingers touching the thumb. His ears are adorned with large white earrings and above his head there are thick ropes of hair artfully tied into a turban wider than his face. The notes from the mission diary help to identify this man as the abbot of the monastery, and in his published account of the mission, Chapman describes him as “an aged man with a benign yet lively face; unlike the other monks we had met he wore a grey robe, and had a great mass of hair tied in a bundle on top of his head. We were told that never during his life had he cut his 1 The Tibet Album, “Monks at Kargyu Monastery” 05 Dec. 2006, The Pitt Rivers Museum, http://tibet.prm.ox.ac.uk/photo_1998.131.131.html. ç 2008 by The University of Chicago. All rights reserved. 0018-2710/2008/4802-0001$10.00 86 Dreadlocks Treatise hair. He wore flat discs of spiral-curved ivory in his ears and rings on his fingers—surely unusual for a monk.”2 Most unusual, indeed. Although the word monk is used to translate a number of different Tibetan terms (ranging from colloquial words with a broad semantic range, such as trapa,3 to technical terms indicating a precise ordination status, such as gelong), the central figure in Chapman’s photograph would not be considered a monk by Tibetans and would not be referred to with any of those terms. The word Tibetans would use to refer to this type of religious figure is ngakpa, a term that lacks a precise correlate in Western religions or languages. A translation of the Sanskrit term mantrin—one who recites mantras—the Tibetan word ngakpa came to denote a class of noncelibate tantric priests. Chapman’s misidentification of the “unusual monk” reflects his confusion about categories that do not precisely correspond with those of European monastic traditions. However, questions about the status of the ngakpa do not arise from foreign attempts at interpretation alone. The long and often contentious history of the figures of the monk and the ngakpa has played a central role in the constitution of Tibetan Buddhism. Modern scholars have frequently employed the dichotomy of monk and ngakpa as an organizing structure for their representations of Tibetan Buddhism. In Tibetan literature, the ngakpa has embodied a challenge to monastic definitions of Buddhism that has been alternately glorified and condemned over the course of a millennium. The works of the seventeenth-century Tibetan Buddhist lama and painter Yolmo Tendzin Norbu (1598–1644) display a strong interest in questions about the figure of the ngakpa and his relationship to monks. This interest was highly personal, as Tendzin Norbu himself was a monk until his mid-twenties, when he decided to become a ngakpa. Interestingly, his writings about ngakpas focus on precisely what struck Frederick Spencer Chapman in 1936 and which stands out when looking at the photograph today: the mass of dreadlocks bound above the ngakpa’s head. This focus on external appearances challenges assumptions that locate questions of religious identity in some immaterial interior. The importance of the superficial is repeated throughout Tendzin Norbu’s autobiography and given polemical expression in his short treatise entitled The Hero’s Roaring Laughter: An Exegesis of the Dreadlocks Worn by Yogins Who Practice 2 Frederick Spencer Chapman, Lhasa: The Holy City (London: Chatto & Windhus, 1938), 26. 3 Tibetan words in the body of this article are transcribed according to the THDL Simplified Transcription System (http://www.thdl.org). Bibliographic references in the notes (of interest primarily to Tibetan specialists) use the Wylie transliteration system. One Line Short History of Religions 87 the Secret Mantra.4 Aside from the unique insights that the treatise provides into the understanding of hairstyles in seventeenth-century Tibetan Buddhism (a fascinating topic in its own right), Yolmo Tendzin Norbu’s sophisticated engagement with the subject raises questions about the identity of the ngakpa and the broader symbolism of hair. ii. hair in the study of religion The human body has long been recognized by scholars as a central location for the expression of social and cultural messages, at least since the pioneering work of Marcel Mauss on “les techniques du corps.”5 However, despite the burgeoning literature on the “history of the body,”6 studies of religion have often retained a dualistic conception that locates religious practice in two domains, the mind and the body. In this conception, the corporeal is secondary to the spiritual in at least two senses. The products of the mind––whether they take the form of meditation, prayer, vows, or exegesis––are generally deemed superior to those of the body.7 Second, the physical signs of the body are seen as derivative manifestations of mind, thought, or belief. The privileged position of the mind is not assumed only by students of religion. The traditional Buddhist triad of body, speech, and mind is understood in ascending order of importance. As Patrick Olivelle has noted, attempts to interpret the religious body (and hair, in particular) have sometimes further suffered from the fact that “as with most condensed and central symbols of society, indigenous exegesis of hair is neither extensive nor frequent.”8 Yolmo Tendzin Norbu’s brief treatise 4 Yol mo Bstan ’dzin nor bu, Gsang sngags spyod pa’i rnal ’byor pa rnams la nye bar ’kho ba ral pa’i rnam bshad dpa’ bo gad rgyangs (hereafter, Ral pa’i rnam bshad), in Collected Writings of Yol-mo Sprul-sku Bstan-’dzin-nor-bu, reproduced from a manuscript collection from the Library of Bla-ma Senge of Yol-mo (Delhi: Dawa Lama, 1982), 87–93. 5 Marcel Mauss, “Les techniques du corps,” Journal de psychologie 32, nos. 3–4 (1934), translated by Ben Brewster, “Techniques of the Body,” Economy and Society 2, no. 1 (1973): 70–88. 6 For an overview, see Roy Porter, “History of the Body Reconsidered,” in New Perspectives on Historical Writing, ed. Peter Burke (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992), 233–60. For a useful bibliography, see Barbara Duden, “A Repertory of Body History,” in Fragments for a History of the Human Body: Zone 5, pt. 3, ed. Michael Feher, with Ramona Naddaff and Nadia Tazi (New York: Urzone, 1989), 471–554. 7 The profound influence of the thought/action dichotomy on ritual studies has been examined in Catherine Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992). For other works on religion and the body, see Sarah Coakley, ed., Religion and the Body (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); Jane Marie Law, ed., Religious Reflections on the Human Body (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995). 8 Patrick Olivelle, “Hair and Society: Social Significance of Hair in South Asian Societies,” in Hair: Its Power and Meaning in Asian Cultures, ed. Alf Hiltebeitel and Barbara D. Miller (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998), 28. 88 Dreadlocks Treatise on the hairstyle of the Tibetan Buddhist ngakpa offers an opportunity to reexamine our understanding of hair symbolism through a rare example of “indigenous exegesis” of the subject. Fortuitously, he also composed a detailed autobiography that allows us to place the composition of the dreadlocks treatise in the context of his life. Reading the autobiography in light of the concerns raised in the treatise, one sees that aspects of religious identity that would appear to be peripheral (hairstyle and clothing) played a central role in his understanding of his own life. Before examining Yolmo Tendzin Norbu’s autobiography and treatise, it is useful to review briefly the study of hair symbolism. A summary of the major hair theories of the past century must begin with the early “comparative” approach most often associated with Sir James Frazer, well illustrated by the first lines of the entry on “Hair and Nails” (by E. E. Sikes) in the 1912 Encyclopædia of Religion and Ethics: “In custom, ritual, and superstition, the same ideas underlie the majority of beliefs and ceremonies relating to human hair and nails; and the whole class of observances may conveniently be treated in a single article. . . . Certain practices relating to the hair of the head appear to have originated from the widespread belief that the head is particularly sacred.”9 The rest of the article connects examples from ancient Greece to the cultures of Burma and the Omaha tribe in order to illustrate this principle: the hair of the head is sacred because it is believed to be the abode of spirits or divinities. The theory reduces an astoundingly complex variety of hair practices from around the world to a general proposition without accounting for any specific cultural contexts. Although Frazer amassed much interesting detail regarding the treatment of hair (and many other practices) in different societies across many centuries, the reliability of his evidence has been questioned and his theory has been widely criticized as simplistic. In his 1958 essay, “Magical Hair,” Edmund Leach emphasized the communicative meaning of hairstyles that derived from the psychological association of hair with sexuality: “An astonishingly high proportion of the ethnographic evidence fits the following pattern in a quite obvious way. In ritual situations: long hair = unrestrained sexuality; short hair or tightly bound hair = restricted sexuality; close shaven hair = celibacy.”10 Christopher Hallpike’s “Social Hair” (1969), written as young men were being drafted to fight in Vietnam, rejected this psychoanalytic approach and argued that “long hair is associated with being outside society 9 E. E. Sikes, “Hair and Nails,” in Encyclopædia of Religion and Ethics, ed. James Hastings (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1912), 474. 10 Edmund R. Leach, “Magical Hair,” Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 88 (1953): 154. One Line Short History of Religions 89 and . . . the cutting of hair symbolizes re-entering society, or living under a particular disciplinary regime within society.”11 Finally, Gananath Obeyesekere’s Medusa’s Hair: An Essay on Personal Symbols and Religious Experiences12 has rightly become a classic of anthropological literature for its bold attempt to bridge the perceived gap between private symbols (psychoanalysis) and public symbols (anthropology). Despite important recent contributions by scholars of religion, it is certainly the case that “much of the theoretical work on the symbolism of hair has been carried out thus far by scholars in the fields of anthropology and psychoanalysis.”13 The dreadlocks of Hindu ascetics have been interpreted over the past century as the abodes of divinity, as symbols of unrestrained sexuality, as symbols of renunciation of society, and as phalluses. In this terrain of shifting meanings, the bearers of the dreadlocks have remained largely silent. Even Obeyesekere’s essay, based on extensive interviews with dreadlocked ascetics, ultimately posits an unconscious meaning to the dreadlocks that the ascetics themselves did not verbalize and would not recognize. Although the differences among these increasingly sophisticated theories are significant, they share a common approach of reducing the hair practices of different cultures to a theory that transcends, yet somehow still applies to, all local contexts. Each of these theories might be productively brought to a reading of Yolmo Tendzin Norbu’s treatise. However, removed from the intellectual, historical, and cultural contexts in which the author lived and wrote, such a reduction is bound always to limit and often to distort our interpretation. I will explore two closely related questions in Yolmo Tendzin Norbu’s autobiographical and polemical writings on dreadlocks. The first asks what these texts tell us about how particular religious hairstyles were interpreted in early seventeenth-century Tibet. The second question focuses on Yolmo Tendzin Norbu’s attempts to shift these meanings through the force of his own actions and polemical writings. As Patrick Olivelle has pointed out, “Just like language, hair symbolism imposes its own grammar on the individuals in a given period of a given society; an individual is unable to produce an entirely new symbolic value of hair from his or her own subjective consciousness and still be able to communicate with the rest of that society.”14 Yolmo Tendzin Norbu’s dreadlocks (both those coiled on his head and those in the words of his treatise) embody this very dialectic 11 Christopher Hallpike, “Social Hair,” Man, n.s., 4 (1969): 260. Gananath Obeyesekere, Medusa’s Hair: An Essay on Personal Symbols and Religious Experience (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984). 13 Olivelle, “Hair and Society,” 31. 14 Ibid., 12. 12 90 Dreadlocks Treatise between a society’s grammar of hair symbolism and an individual’s attempted innovation and intervention in that system. iii. surfaces of a life remembered Yolmo Tendzin Norbu was a prolific autobiographer, composing a long prose memoir, several shorter accounts of his life in verse, and a series of manuscript paintings depicting about thirty scenes from his life. His autobiography was admired and quoted by the “Great Fifth Dalai Lama” Ngawang Lozang Gyatso and his paintings were highly regarded even centuries later.15 The autobiographical paintings provide a visual memoir that corresponds to the textual one in illuminating ways. The very existence of these images heightens our awareness of the visual details in the parallel passages of the prose memoir. The paintings mitigate the scholar’s tendency to read through appearances in search of immaterial ideas in the face of the text’s consistent (and conscious) focus on appearances themselves. Indeed, the critical moments in Tendzin Norbu’s representation of his own life are almost all discussed in relation to clothing and hairstyle rather than in terms of some inner conversion or crisis. In order to introduce the author of the “dreadlocks treatise” and to demonstrate the centrality of appearances to the autobiography, I will review some of the most important episodes from his life as presented in that text. Unlike most life stories, Tendzin Norbu’s memoirs do not begin with an account of his ancestry or with the scene of his birth. Rather, in an autobiographical convention rooted in the logic of the Tibetan system of recognized rebirths,16 the story begins at the deathbed of one Yolmo Namkha Gyajin. In conversation with the great Sakya master Jampa Sönam Wangpo (1559–1621), the dying lama announces that he will pass from life seven 15 The autobiographical manuscript paintings have been reproduced as line drawings in Yolmo Bstan ’dzin nor bu, “Untitled” (illustrations to the autobiography), in The Autobiography and Collected Writings (Gsu“ thor bu) of the Third Rig-’dzin Yol-mo-ba Sprul-sku Bstan’dzin Nor-bu, 2 vols. (Dalhousie, 1977), 1:45–61. David Jackson’s A History of Tibetan Painting: The Great Tibetan Painters and Their Traditions ([Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1996], 197) mentions a nineteenth-century painter who sought out a painting of Tendzin Norbu’s to use as a model for his own work. The Fifth Dalai Lama describes his admiration for Tendzin Norbu in his own autobiography (Ngag dbang blo bzang rgya mthso, Dalai Lama V, Za hor gyi ban de ngag dbang blo bzang rgya mtsho’i ’di snang ’khrul ba’i rol rtsed rtogs brjod kyi tshul du bkod pa du ku la’i gos bzang [Lhasa: Bod ljongs mi dmangs dpe skrun khang, 1989], 1:236) and quotes from Tendzin Norbu’s autobiography throughout his biography of Rinzin Ngaki Wangpo (Ngag dbang blo bzang rgya mthso, Dalai Lama V, Byang pa rig ’dzin chen po Ngag gi dbang po’i rnam par thar pa ngo mtshar bkod pa rgya mtsho, in Bka’ ma mdo dbang gi bla ma brgyud pa’i rnam thar, Smanrtsis shesrig spendzod, vol. 37 [Leh: S. W. Tashigangpa, 1972], 427–553). 16 According to this tradition, a realized lama may consciously choose rebirth. The disciples of a deceased lama will then try to identify and recognize the lama during childhood. Upon recognition, the child is referred to as a trülku (Tibetan: sprul sku; Sanskrit: nirmanakaya). History of Religions 91 days hence. As a condition for his rebirth as a completely pure, fully ordained monk, he entrusts his alms bowl and monk’s robe to the Sakya master.17 Thus, before Tendzin Norbu describes his birth, he tells the story of certain conditions for his life being set in place through the bequest of items essential to the monk’s costume. Although the boy was indeed formally recognized as the rebirth of Yolmo Namkha Gyajin (and thus identified as the Third Yolmo Trülku), the alms bowl and robe were not passed on to the new incarnation. Many years later, when Tendzin Norbu reports a visit with the Sakya master Jampa Sönam Wangpo, the failed delivery of these items is interpreted as both a cause of Tendzin Norbu’s struggles with monasticism and as an omen indicating that the monastic life might not be meant for him. Along these lines, the boy’s father was a renowned ngakpa known as Lochen Chenrezik, and the memoirs indicate that as a child Tendzin Norbu refused to wear ordinary clothes, preferring to dress up in white robes imitating those of ngakpas like his father. Noticing this penchant, the father expressed some concern about the child’s style of dress and urged him to become a monk and exert himself in studies before making any decisions about being a ngakpa. This theme of the tension between monkhood and the path of the ngakpa persists throughout Tendzin Norbu’s memoir, and the inherited monk’s robe and bowl and the white robes that he preferred set the contrast in terms of appearances. At the age of six, Tendzin Norbu received the first of the three major ordinations in the Tibetan Buddhist monastic system from the famous Sixth Zhamar Rinpoché, Chökyi Wangchuk (1584–1630). The autobiographical painting depicting this scene shows the young Tendzin Norbu kneeling before the lama’s seat, his palms joined in a reverential gesture, as the lama’s left hand takes hold of a long lock of black hair that stands straight up and his right hand holds a blade poised to cut the long lock. The caption floating in the upper right register of the frame reads, “I offered a lock of my hair at the feet of the Bearer of the Red Crown [Zhamar Chökyi Wangchuk].”18 In both the written and visual autobiographies, the definitive moment of the ordination process is understood to be this moment when the child’s hair is cut. This emphasis on hair is not particular to Tendzin Norbu’s case but may be observed in Buddhist ordination rituals (in their diverse forms) 17 Yol mo Bstan ’dzin nor bu, Rang gi rtogs pa brjod pa rdo rje sgra ma’i rgyud mangs (hereafter, Rang gi rtogs brjod), in Collected Writings of Yol-mo Sprul-sku Bstan-’dzin-nor-bu, reproduced from a manuscript collection from the Library of Bla-ma Senge of Yol-mo (Delhi: Dawa Lama, 1982), 96. 18 Yolmo Bstan ’dzin nor bu, “Untitled” (illustrations to the autobiography) (see n. 15 above). 92 Dreadlocks Treatise throughout the world.19 In its primary meaning, the ritual reenacts Siddhartha Gautama’s cutting off of his long royal locks after leaving the palace to begin his renunciation. In the story of the Buddha’s life, this act definitively marked his rejection of the worldly life of his palace and his commitment to renunciation, asceticism, and celibacy. This episode is often visually depicted as representing the sixth of twelve great acts of the Buddha, the act of renunciation. As described in the voice of the Buddha in the Ariyapariyesana Sutta, “Later, while still young, a black-haired young man endowed with the blessing of youth, in the prime of life, though my mother and father wished otherwise and wept with tearful faces, I shaved off my hair and beard, put on the yellow robe, and went forth from the home life into homelessness.”20 Two obvious but important points arise from these lines. The first is that the act of shaving the hair requires no explication or interpretation; the equation of shaved hair with “homelessness” (i.e., renunciation) is implicitly understood. This is noteworthy because this act of the royal prince is invoked as the precedent for the entire tradition of monks and nuns shaving their heads. However, in accounts of the Buddha’s life, his decision to shave his head is based on what is appropriate for a monk. Thus, the Indian grammar of hair symbolism seems already to have been established well before the prince’s haircut, and the early biographers felt no need to explain the significance or symbolism of this act. The second point raised by this passage is the depiction of his parents as unwilling, with tears pouring down their faces. Siddhartha’s renunciation of his royal family life (depicted in art through the image of the prince with sword aloft, cutting off his long locks) transgresses all social expectations and leads to great distress for his family. Interestingly, in most Buddhist cultures, the ordination ritual that reenacts this precedent has become so deeply embedded in the social fabric that it acts as a standard rite of passage performed as a matter of familial duty, and often celebration. There are interesting variations in the practice and theory of ordination in various Buddhist cultures. In Thailand, for example, the eyebrows are shaved along with the head of the hair. In the shinbyu ceremony in 19 On the body in Theravada monasticism, see Steven Collins, “The Body in Theravada Buddhist Monasticism,” in Religion and the Body, ed. Sarah Coakley (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 185–204. For an insightful analysis of Buddhist hair practices and gender differences, see Karen Lang, “Shaven Heads and Loose Hair: Buddhist Attitudes toward Hair and Sexuality,” in Off with Her Head! The Denial of Women’s Identity in Myth, Religion, and Culture, ed. Howard Eilberg-Schwartz and Wendy Doniger (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 32–52. 20 From The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Translation of the Majjhima Nikaya, trans. Bhikkhu Na“amoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), 256. One Line Long History of Religions 93 Burma, the temporary ordination of a son is an elaborate social affair that reinforces family and societal structures.21 In some recent forms of the ordination ceremony in China, the shaved heads of monks and nuns are burned with a stick of incense to produce a set of small round scars (from three to eighteen).22 Despite these differences in practice, the basic understanding of the shaving of a child’s head as performing the Buddha’s renunciation and marking entrance into the monastic community has remained relatively consistent across the Buddhist world. Tendzin Norbu eventually progressed through the second (dge tshul) and third (dge slong) ordinations and became a fully ordained bhikßu. In the autobiographer’s retrospective view, although he was steadfastly determined to uphold fastidiously the complete vows, he always wore the monastic robes with a degree of awkwardness and anxiety. There were many signs, even during the period of greatest commitment to his life as a monk, that the ngakpa’s robes he preferred as a child were not completely forgotten. During his travels, Tendzin Norbu paid a visit to the Sakya master Jampa Sönam Wangpo who appeared in the very first scene of the autobiography at the deathbed of Tendzin Norbu’s previous incarnation. The alms bowl and robe bestowed to him at that time, we are told, had never been delivered to the young reincarnate lama, and although the bowl was still there, the robe had become worn out. In the logic that results from the intersection of the Tibetan system of recognized rebirths (sprul sku) and the doctrine of interdependent causation (rten ’brel), the fact that these items had not been passed on to the child earlier in his life has significance beyond the mere delay of an inheritance. The bowl and the robe were specifically intended to serve as the auspicious conditions (rten ’brel) that would ensure the child’s successful career as a fully ordained monk. The missed connection might be interpreted as both a portent and a cause of Tendzin Norbu’s later decision to abandon his monastic vows. And, in fact, the author, as we will see, understood them as signifying that he was not meant to be a monk. All of these interpretations hinge on the significance of the monk’s material accoutrements as determining factors in Tendzin Norbu’s religious life. The first hints of the young monk’s aspirations to become a ngakpa are likewise expressed in terms of appearances. Around the age of twenty, Tendzin Norbu became a student of Rindzin Ngaki Wangpo,23 one of 21 See Donald K. Swearer, The Buddhist World of Southeast Asia (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995), 51. 22 See Holmes Welch, The Practice of Chinese Buddhism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1967), 247–302. 23 Rindzin Ngaki Wangpo (Rig ’dzin Ngag gi dbang po) was the founder of Dorjé Drak Monastery. His biography by the Fifth Dalai Lama may be found in Ngag dbang blo bzang rgya mthso, Dalai Lama V, Byang pa rig ’dzin chen po Ngag gi dbang po’i rnam par thar pa ngo mtshar bkod pa rgya mtsho. 94 Dreadlocks Treatise the most famous ngakpas of the time. Although hesitant at first, Tendzin Norbu’s veneration for Rindzin Ngaki Wangpo quickly grew; for a number of years, he traveled back and forth between his monastery and the mixed “dharma encampment” of Rindzin Ngaki Wangpo’s disciples. Although he remained a monk throughout this period, his growing admiration for the ngakpa found expression in various ways. While attending a debate festival at the monastery of his preceptor, the Zhamar Rinpoché, Tendzin Norbu altered the traditional “dedication of merit”:24 The king of dharma [Zhamar Rinpoché] said, “[I dedicate the merit that results from this event] to all people until they reach enlightenment.” I said, “I dedicate the merit [to the wish that] having reached the enlightenment of a buddha, I will then become a ‘lord of the family’ in the style of one with dreadlocks tied in a topknot and ornamented with a jewel at the crown.” The learned scholars laughed heartily. . . . The next day at the teaching, the Victorious [Zhamar] looked at me and remembering what I had said the previous day, he laughed.25 Tendzin Norbu’s aspiration to become a buddha as described in the tantras contrasts starkly with the standard dedication voiced by Zhamar Chökyi Wangchuk. Voicing this desire to become a buddha in the manner of the “lords of the families” described in the tantras, with dreadlocks tied above his head, in the midst of the monastic assembly, was so unexpected and incongruous that it may only be understood, at the time, as a joke. The sounds of laughter that filled the monastery are echoes of the incongruity between the dreadlocked image in Tendzin Norbu’s prayer and the tonsured assembly. The tensions between the identity of the monk and the ngakpa that appear throughout the autobiography come into full focus in the nineteenth chapter. This chapter describes a meditation retreat the author undertook in an isolated sacred cave on the slopes of Mount Riwo Pembar in the early 1620s. At one point during this retreat, Tendzin Norbu dreamed of a beautiful fifteen-year-old woman who held his hands, sang melodious songs, and offered words prophesying the benefit he would bring to beings in the future. Reflecting on this dream upon waking, Tendzin Norbu realized that in the dream he had been dressed not in his monk’s robes but in the white robes of a ngakpa. Taking this as a sign, he decided to dress in ngakpa’s robes during the next major ritual performance of his retreat. 24 The dedication of merit ( parinamana) typically concludes any Buddhist ritual practice. The explicit goal of transferring the merit produced by the ritual to another person is often theorized in Mahayana sources as being related to the perfection of generosity and the generation of compassion. 25 Bstan ’dzin nor bu, Rang gi rtogs brjod, 154. History of Religions 95 On that occasion, hosts of dakas and dakinis26 gathered around him and piled up enormous heaps of offerings, waving banners of white silk in the air. About this Tendzin Norbu writes, “At that time, there was a meaningful coincidence of causal factors [rten ’brel] in my wearing such accoutrements of a ngakpa.” The “meaningful coincidence of causal factors” here is demonstrated by the fact that performing the ritual dressed as a ngakpa produced extremely auspicious results. Just as the undelivered monk’s robe and bowl from the previous incarnation was interpreted as both cause and omen of Tendzin Norbu’s shortened monastic career, the response of celestial beings to his ngakpa robes and long hair is understood both to manifest his identity as a ngakpa and to confirm the correctness of the decision. This is the principal passage in Tendzin Norbu’s memoirs that directly discusses his transformation from monk to ngakpa. However, rather than discuss differences in doctrine or formal ritual practice, Tendzin Norbu’s focus remains fixed on the surface. As he wrote, “When I see painted or sculpted images of Nyang Rinpoché, Dakchen Rinpoché, Trashi Topgyel and others, I am thrilled and delighted.”27 By drawing attention to the painted and sculpted images of famous ngakpas from Tibetan Buddhist history, Tendzin Norbu again emphasizes the visual and the material. Here we have a glimpse of an alternative transmission, one we would trace not through texts or initiation ceremonies but through paintings and sculptures. Donning the clothes and styling the hair of these luminaries, Tendzin Norbu came to identify with them.28 After invoking the precedent that statues and images of these figures bear witness to, Tendzin Norbu turns to a defense of the legitimacy of different styles of Buddhist uniform in general (mentioning both India and Tibet) and then specifically to his defense of the ngakpa’s own style: In India, the monastic robes of the eighteen sects each had its own identifying marks.29 On the other side, the brahmana, yogi, sa—nyasin, and others each 26 Dakas and dakinis are male and female celestial beings depicted in Vajrayana literature as protectors of esoteric knowledge who punish and reward individuals for the erroneous or correct practice of tantra. See Adelheid Herrmann-Pfandt, Dakinis: Zur Stellung und Symbolik des Weiblichen im Tantrischen Buddhismus (Bonn: Indica et Tibetica Verlag, 1992). 27 Nyang ral Nyi ma ’od zer (1136–1204), Bdag chen rin po che may refer here to Sa skya pa Byams pa bsod nams dbang po (1559–1621) and Bkra shis stobs rgyal (1550–1603), the father of Bstan ’dzin nor bu’s lama Ngag gi dbang po. 28 Compare the quotation from Mencius: “If you wear Yao’s clothes, chant Yao’s words, and act as Yao acted, then you are simply Yao.” 29 In the standard Tibetan presentation of Buddhist history, differences of opinion regarding doctrine, ritual, and philosophical view led to the creation of eighteen different sects. These eighteen sects are all subsumed under the “Lesser Vehicle” (theg dman) label in Tibetan classifications. These schools are remembered in Tibet principally for the Mulasarvastivadin school’s role as the source of the monastic ordination lineage followed in Tibet and for their 96 Dreadlocks Treatise had their own marks.30 In Tibet as well, there are different hats for each type. They are not attractive, but they must be worn. They are indicative of the philosophical tenets one holds. In that regard, these accoutrements—the dreadlocks and the white undyed clothes––display a natural and uncontrived state. These are the accoutrements of the “accomplished ones” (grub thob, siddha) and the “holders of the mantra[’s power]” (sngags ‘chang, mantradharin).31 By pointing out that external appearance distinguished the various sects of classical Indian Buddhism as well as the non-Buddhist religious groups of India, Tendzin Norbu argues for the universal significance of the superficial. Within that broad framework he then offers specific interpretations of the ngakpa’s clothing, interpretations that will be revisited in much greater detail in his treatise. Based on the construction of the monk/ngakpa dichotomy in most scholarship on Tibetan Buddhism, one would expect that Tendzin Norbu’s change from monk to ngakpa would represent a momentous chapter in the autobiography: some dramatic epiphany that transformed his philosophical views or gave rise to deep religious convictions. However, the closer one looks at Tendzin Norbu’s representation of the event, the more one is struck by how strongly the emphasis is placed upon appearances. In the chain of events leading up to this statement—or at least his depiction of them—it was the clothing he wore in his dreams and in his meditation retreat that precipitated his change in identity. Moreover, this change of identity itself, if we try to pinpoint what has actually changed, is inseparable from the change of clothes. This is not to suggest that merely putting on the costume of a ngakpa would make one a ngakpa. The monks who don the stylized guises of ngakpas for the purpose of monastic dance festivals are still monks after the performance is finished. In Tendzin Norbu’s own autobiography, we see him several times in the guise of a ngakpa: as a child playing dress-up games, as the image of aspiration in a joke about himself, in the dream of the young woman, and, finally, during the performance of an offering ritual in retreat. Yet throughout those experiences, his status as a monk was unchanged. In light of what follows, the child’s game, the joke, the dream, and the ritual may all be seen as dressing rooms where he tried on his new identity. Encouraged by the praise he received from the woman in his dream and the celestial beings place in the Tibetan doxography of philosophical views (where they are classified as either Vaibhasika (bye brag smra ba) or Sautrantika (mdo sde pa). I am not familiar with any sources that discuss distinctive robes differentiating the adherents of the different sects. 30 Here, Tendzin Norbu seems to equate names for various classes of non-Buddhist Indian religious as categories that would be visibly marked. Indeed, the hairstyles, robes, and facial markings worn by various groups of Indian ascetics do indicate sectarian allegiances. 31 Bstan ’dzin nor bu, Rang gi rtogs brjod, 157. History of Religions 97 in his meditative retreat, he decided to adopt permanently this style of dress. In doing so, he was not only following the indications received in solitary retreat but also reenacting the renunciation of monastic life found in the hagiographies of Indian mahasiddhas such as Virupa and Naropa. Just as ‡akyamuni’s life story (as depicted in literature and art) is enacted ritually across the Buddhist world, the lives of the mahasiddhas offer an alternative discourse in which hair symbolism plays a central role. In the hagiographies of these tantric adepts, story after story is told of the mahasiddhas leaving the monasteries, taking up with consorts of the lowest castes, drinking alcohol, and letting their hair grow long. Although the history of tantric Buddhism in India remains obscure, the Tibetan stories, prayers, and paintings of these figures dramatize their transgressions of all social conventions as both source and proof of their superhuman powers. Beyond the renunciation of society performed by the monk entering a monastery, the idealized mahasiddha leaving the monastery renounces all attachments and conventions.32 The ngakpas clearly modeled themselves on the Indian mahasiddhas in their conceptions of the Buddhist path, models of ritual practice, and images of realized beings. Although the mahasiddhas are venerated across the Tibetan Buddhist sectarian and institutional spectra, Tibetan history shows that individuals who actually imitated the mahasiddhas too closely were highly controversial. Most famously, in the late tenth century, a king of western Tibet named Yeshé Ö addressed a letter to “the ngakpas of Tibet.”33 The letter details the erroneous views and heterodox practices of ngakpas and insists that their claim to be Buddhists is evidence that they are either deluded by demons or simply mad. Tendzin Norbu’s autobiographical account of the response to his decision to leave the monastery and become a ngakpa suggests that deep anxieties about this style of tantric practice were still prevalent in the early seventeenth century. Other than a very few, nobody was pleased. The severity of my crime was considered worse than that of killing a person. To my face, everyone in all directions struck me with harsh criticism. . . . Just for a change of clothes, many people turned their faces. . . . [People said,] “Having let his hair grow and having changed the color of his clothes, next he’ll take a wife. Later, he’ll make a child. He’ll 32 Ronald M. Davidson has presented a theory of the social history of this movement in Indian Esoteric Buddhism: A Social History of the Tantric Movement (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002). On siddhas in particular, see chap. 7. 33 This extraordinary document was published, translated, and introduced by Samten G. Karmay in 1980 and has now been included in the first volume of his collected articles. Samten G. Karmay, “The Ordinance of lHa Bla-ma Ye-shes-’od,” in The Arrow and the Spindle: Studies in History, Myths, Rituals and Beliefs in Tibet (Kathmandu: Mandala Book Point, 1998), 3–16. 98 Dreadlocks Treatise drink beer carelessly.” Now, this situation has befallen me. Still, it’s all in agreement with the discipline of ‡akyamuni. It’s also in accordance with the tantras of Vajradhara and the secret instructions of Orgyen Pema [Padmasambhava]. For me, it fits very well. For others, [it is better] to remain [as monks]. The harsh response to his decision emphasizes the transgressive nature of crossing the border between the monastic world of the monk and the tantric world of the ngakpa. Although the two realms are connected in countless ways, the transition from one to the other highlights the differences that separate them. Tendzin Norbu moves very quickly in this passage from the idle gossip of people predicting (correctly) that his change of attire will lead to a change in conduct to a defense against an unstated assertion that the ngakpa is not actually Buddhist. It is in response to attacks in both of these registers (personal conduct and Buddhist authenticity) that Tendzin Norbu composed his polemical treatise on the topic of dreadlocks. iv. the polemics of paraphernalia The colophon to Tendzin Norbu’s treatise on dreadlocks, entitled The Hero’s Roaring Laughter, indicates that he wrote it at the age of twentynine, in his hermitage at Ngödrup Tsoling in the southern region of Kyirong, for “the benefit and knowledge of the few ngakpas who maintain harmony of the view and conduct.” The opening lines of the text, however, indicate that his words were aimed ultimately at a secondary audience. The treatise is not a compendium of information on dreadlocks meant for the edification of ngakpas but a polemical tract those ngakpas might use to defend against the attacks of their detractors. In Tendzin Norbu’s words, “I wrote this in order to dispel scornful slander for yogins and yoginis who bear the signs [of the ngakpa].”34 Although Tendzin Norbu argues vociferously against the slander of ngakpas, he takes care in the beginning of the treatise to express a degree of sympathetic understanding for how the mistaken views of the slanderers may have come about. As if to demonstrate from the outset that he wishes for this discussion to take place on a common ground shared by ngakpas and monks, Tendzin Norbu opens with a quotation from one of Tibet’s most revered scholarmonks, Sakya Pandita Kunga Gyeltsen (1182–1251): “Either one should act in accord with what is said in the Perfection of Wisdom Sutras or one should practice in accordance with the pronouncements of the Vajrayana tantras. The buddhas did not teach a Great Vehicle other than these two.”35 34 Yol mo Bstan ’dzin nor bu, Ral pa’i rnam bshad, 87. These lines are from Sakya Pandita’s classic work on the relationship of the three classes of Buddhist vows (pratimoksa, bodhisattva, and tantric samaya). See Sakya Pandita Kunga Gyaltsen, A Clear Differentiation of the Three Codes, trans. Jared Rhoton (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2002), 131–32. 35 History of Religions 99 This quotation is followed by a reference to a proclamation of Tri Songdeutsen, the eighth-century king credited with establishing Buddhism in Tibet, which emphasizes the distinct identities of these two teachings: the sutra-based Mahayana and the tantra-based Mahayana. Tendzin Norbu draws upon these authorities as voices for the harmonious coexistence of two distinct Mahayana paths, embodied by the monk and the ngakpa. But Tendzin Norbu observes that not everyone shares this harmonious vision: some monks develop an extreme attachment to the monastic code and denigrate all who do not follow it. These extremists spread a deeply negative and mistaken view of ngakpas. As the karmic result of this erroneous view will be severe, Tendzin Norbu explains that he has really written this polemical tract out of the compassionate desire to protect these ignorant slanderers from rebirth in hell. “Merely seeing the holders of the wisdom-mantra with their hair tied-up in a topknot and wearing white robes, their minds blaze with anger like violent flames. The shouts of their baseless slander resound like echoes. Seeing that without a doubt this slander of the view and conduct of secret mantra will lead to hell, unbearable pity for these people arose. Therefore, I composed this brief explanation of the appropriateness of this comportment. This is the explanation of the topic of the discourse.”36 The structure and style of the entire treatise reprise the curious mixture of righteous indignation and sympathetic understanding that the author claims in this passage. Conceding that some of the criticisms leveled are in fact legitimate critiques of a majority of ngakpas, Tendzin Norbu then fervently defends the authenticity and superiority of the ngakpa tradition, understood and practiced correctly. The treatise formally mimics the polemics of Tibetan scholastic debate in a way that seems to insist that ngakpas not be excluded from the scholastic realm at the same time that it seems to suggest that since some monks cannot understand dreadlocks on their own, he will explain it in language they can understand. Following the conventions of Tibetan polemical literature, Tendzin Norbu raises objections to dreadlocks and then replies to those objections with logical arguments built around quotations from scriptural sources. The first objection, attributed to the scholar ‡akya Chokden (1428–1507), argues that the custom of wearing long dreadlocks only dates back to the eleventh century and has no earlier basis. As in the autobiography, Tendzin Norbu here refers to religious images in the way that scholastics refer to the authority of scripture, pointing out that many of the most important figures from the eighth century beginnings of Buddhism in Tibet are depicted in precisely this way, with dreadlocks tied above the head in a topknot. 36 Yol mo Bstan ’dzin nor bu, Ral pa’i rnam bshad, 88. 100 Dreadlocks Treatise Beyond the iconographic evidence for the antiquity of this tradition, Tendzin Norbu also argues that the hairstyle has a scriptural basis in the tantras. “The crown-ornament of the topknot of dreadlocks is in accordance with the teachings of the tantras. As for learned explanations of dreadlocks that one may quote from the tantras, they may be given out as liberally as the grain distributed by the old village chief drunk on beer.”37 While the quotations that he provides are not as numerous as this colorful analogy suggests, he does provide a wide variety of sources. Careful to cite tantras from both the New and Old Translations,38 Tendzin Norbu starts with the well-known Hevajratantra, which instructs one to “arrange the hair in a topknot like a thief ’s.”39 After a longer quote from a text called the Tantra of Singing40 that describes a particularly ornate way of arranging dreadlocks into a topknot surrounded with five tufts, Tendzin Norbu enters into a detailed and rather obscure discussion of other styles. Each style is described briefly, given a name, and connected to a specific tradition of texts and practice.41 37 Ibid., 89. The Tibetan Buddhist canon purports to consist entirely of translations of Sanskrit scriptures. This amazing feat of translation took place during two different periods referred to by Tibetan historians as the “Early Translations” (seventh to ninth centuries) and the “Later Translations” (eleventh to thirteenth centuries). As the Buddhist “canon” in India never closed, the texts translated during each period represent distinctly different strata of late Indian Buddhism. In the period of the Later Translations, various traditions of exegesis and practice developed and were eventually institutionalized. Those relying on the earlier translations became known as the Ancients (Nyingmapa), whereas those relying on the new translations were called the New Schools (Sarmapa). The scholars responsible for compiling and editing the Tibetan canon excluded many works of the earlier translations that were preserved in the Collected Tantras of the Ancients (Nyingma Gyübum). 39 See David Snellgrove, The Hevajra Tantra: A Critical Study (London: Oxford University Press, 1959), 64–65. Snellgrove notes that although all the manuscripts (and Tibetan translations) read cauryake¶akrtam, the only sensible reading (following Kanha’s commentary) is caudake¶a. Thus, his translation reads, “should arrange his piled-up hair as a crest.” Tendzin Norbu clearly follows the Tibetan tradition by quoting “rkun ma’i skra” (= a thief’s hair). 40 Glu blangs kyi rgyud. I have not yet been able to identify this tantra. 41 Throughout this section the author refers numerous times to a text called the “Black Dreadlocks Weapons of Battle Tantra” (Ral nag mtshon ’khrug gi rgyud ) and concludes the discussion of various styles of dreadlocks by referring interested readers to that tantra. A text with that title is included in the Collected Tantras of the Ancients (Mtshams brag 578, vol. 31, text 20: 766.6–773.7). The first chapter consists of a very brief version of the subjugation of Rudra, noting that the subjugator “plundered Rudra’s ornaments, flayed him, and departed.” The second chapter opens with a series of questions about the origins, qualities, and enumerations of dreadlocks and proceeds to answer each one. Interestingly, the dreadlocks atop Rudra’s head are only one source of dreadlocks; different groups of dreadlocks of different colors are said to have arisen from his sense organs, his intestines, his bones, etc. Each of these groups of dreadlocks are then explained as analogous to a group from tantra’s vast pantheon of divine beings (e.g., the fourteen red dreadlocks that emerged from Rudra’s intestines indicate the compassionate activities of the fourteen wisdom dakinis). Different actions involving dreadlocks are interpreted in the text. For example, “Waving the dreadlocks in the sky three times binds the gods and demons of the sky to oaths.” The third chapter is similarly structured with the consistent substitution of drums for dreadlocks. Finally, the fourth chapter exalts the power and superiority of the tantra itself. The tantra’s association of dreadlocks with Rudra does suggest a connection with ‡aiva traditions. 38 One Line Long History of Religions 101 Aside from this erudite display of what is surely one of the more arcane appendages of the tantric literary corpus, Tendzin Norbu offers a defense of dreadlocks on the basis of their meaning. “The unaltered hair—dreadlocks—and the undyed cloth of white are the signs of not being contrived and therefore are the marks of the ngakpa or yogin.”42 The ngakpa’s dreadlocks, although often arrayed in intricate styles above the head, are never cut or combed. Accordingly, they are understood as unaltered—hair in its natural state. This is the most frequently offered explication of the symbol provided by the ngakpas themselves: their uncontrived hair represents the uncontrived mind of the meditator, absorbed in contemplation of the nature of reality. In this sense, the dreadlocks may be read as an assertion that the bearer has transcended the need for monastic discipline symbolized by the shaved head. While the monk must shave his head at least once a month,43 the ngakpa’s hairstyle is effortless and natural. The freedom from this monastic need to repeatedly shave the head connects the ngakpa with ‡akyamuni. It is said that after ‡akyamuni cut his hair upon leaving the palace, it stayed the same length without ever being cut again.44 While these discussions defend dreadlocks through recourse to scripture and reasoning, Tendzin Norbu also employs a slightly different argument. The ritual manuals for many different tantric practices contain instructions indicating how to arrange one’s hair. Much of tantric ritual consists of embodying buddhahood, and many tantric buddhas have long hair. Tendzin Norbu asks how the authenticity of dreadlocks as a proper Buddhist symbol could possibly be denied when these practice manuals indicate how dreadlocks should be arranged on the head, including details as specific as what color cloth should be used to tie the topknot and where on the topknot the cloth should be tied. Here the argument shifts from defending the authenticity and validity of dreadlocks to asserting their necessity. This claim is reinforced by the fact that monastic performances of tantric rituals often involve costumes that include stylized dreadlocks and topknots. Though such hairpieces might be sufficient for carrying out the ritual instructions, in light of the significance ascribed to the ngakpa’s dreadlocks—uncontrived naturalness—there is a certain incongruity in the practice of using artificial ones. 42 Yol mo Bstan ’dzin nor bu, Ral pa’i rnam bshad, 88.6–89.1. The repetition of the word uncontrived (Tibetan: ma bcos; Sanskrit: akrtrima) in this passage invokes a long tradition of Buddhist literature in which the mental state of a realized being is described as uncontrived. 43 Although shaving practices vary between different traditions and monastic communities, the general rule is that hair cannot grow longer than two finger breadths (Cullavagga V.2.2). Monks in Thailand shave their heads in a monthly communal ritual the day before the full moon. Elsewhere, individuals are responsible for maintaining acceptable hair length. 44 See, e.g., the Nidanakatha, in Buddhism in Translations, trans. Henry Clarke Warren (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1953), 66. 102 Dreadlocks Treatise Although the implications of Tendzin Norbu’s suggestion that dreadlocks are necessary for the practice of tantra seem to pit monks against ngakpas, his argument is based on elements of tantric theory that transcend sectarian divisions and span the divide between monks and ngakpas. Meditation on emptiness is frequently pointed to as the quintessential Mahayana practice. However, even the Tibetan authors who emphasized the importance of meditation on emptiness did not consider it sufficient in itself to secure buddhahood. A classic explanation of this point is found in the Vajra Tent Tantra (Tibetan: rdo rje gur gyi rgyud; Sanskrit: Vajrapañjaratantra). After explaining that emptiness is the antidote to the conception of self but not the cause of buddhahood, the text reads: A Teacher has the two and thirty signs As well as all the eighty minor marks, Therefore the method of achievement Is to take on the Teacher’s form.45 A buddha is identified here in corporeal terms, as the teacher with the particular physical characteristics that mark a buddha as such (traditionally organized into a list of thirty-two major and eighty minor marks).46 The principle of tantric Buddhist practice that underlies Tendzin Norbu’s argument about the necessity of dreadlocks is that the “method of achievement is to take on the Teacher’s form.” If taking on the buddha’s form means tying your dreadlocks above your head in a topknot, aren’t long dreadlocks needed in order to do so? A possible objection to this argument is that Tendzin Norbu has interpreted far too literally the notion that one should take on the teacher’s form. This could be expressed by suggesting that through the tantric path one gradually progresses toward an enlightenment that will result in the form of a buddha, but that adopting the appearance of a buddha before that enlightenment is achieved would be inappropriate at best. Tendzin Norbu raises and responds to this concern before launching into a very different critique of his imagined interlocutor. If you say that it is not appropriate to wear the accoutrements of Heruka until one has attained the level of Samantabhadra or Vajradhara, then it follows that it is not appropriate to shave one’s head and dye one’s robes until the level of 45 The passage from the Vajra Tent Tantra is quoted by Tsongkhapa in his Sngags rim chen mo. See H.H. the Dalai Lama, Tsong-kha-pa, and Jeffrey Hopkins, Tantra in Tibet (Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion, 1987), 117. 46 On these marks and the usnisa in particular, see Donald S. Lopoez Jr., “Buddha,” in Critical Terms for the Study of Buddhism, ed. Donald S. Lopez Jr. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005), 13–36. History of Religions 103 ‡akyamuni is attained. So throw away all of these venerable robes of yours! In particular, enjoying beer without restraint, [your] round bald head sleeping together with a woman’s, in what tantra is that set forth? In which sutra is it explained? Which king proclaimed that? By which realized scholar was that clearly explicated, pray tell?47 Tendzin Norbu responds to the objection by replacing the representative tantric buddhas of the Old and New Translations (Samantabhadra and Vajradhara, respectively) with the nontantric buddha ‡akyamuni. In the terms of this equation, if it is not appropriate for ngakpas to wear dreadlocks and tantric dress until they have attained the realization of those buddhas, then it is certainly not appropriate for monks to have shaved heads and wear monastic robes until they have attained the realization of ‡akyamuni. This response simultaneously undermines the attack by drawing out an absurd consequence of the logic and implicitly suggests that the monastery where ‡akyamuni is emulated is not really the proper realm for the practice of tantra, which necessitates the emulation of Samantabhadra Vajradhara. Although Tendzin Norbu’s tract on dreadlocks mimics scholastic treatises, as the previous quotation demonstrates, he alternates between scriptural quotation, logical argument, and much more personal polemics without a clear or coherent structure. Immediately after replying to this imagined objection, Tendzin Norbu lashes out at the perceived hypocrisy of those who slander ngakpas, slanderers here identified as fraudulent monks. In a chain of associations that seems to confirm Edmund Leach’s theory, Tendzin Norbu moves from long hair to alcohol to sex.48 It is important to recall that in the autobiography these were precisely the activities that Tendzin Norbu’s critics predicted would follow his change of appearance. Nowhere in his writings does Tendzin Norbu attempt to deny the charges. In fact, his collected writings are replete with paeans to the delights of beer and women. His argument is that these activities are in fact perfectly appropriate within the ethical structure of the tantric path. Tacitly accepting the connection between long hair, alcohol, and sex, Tendzin Norbu argues that none of these things are inherently unethical. In his view, the real ethical transgression is the confusion of categories, the combination of different ethical systems. In terms of ethics, so long 47 Yol mo Bstan ’dzin nor bu, Ral pa’i rnam bshad, 92. The same chain of associations may also be seen in the reports of the Jesuit missionary Ippolito Desideri on the controversial activities of the Sixth Dalai Lama. See Ippolito Desideri, An Account of Tibet: The Travels of Ippolito Desideri of Pistoia, S.J., 1712–1727 (London: Routledge, 2004), 150: “Ignoring the sacred customs of Lamas and monks in Thibet he began by bestowing care on his hair, then he took to drinking intoxicating liquors, to gambling, and at length no girl or married woman or good-looking person of either sex was safe from his unbridled licentiousness.” 48 104 Dreadlocks Treatise as the outward appearance conforms with the individual’s conduct, Tendzin Norbu suggests that the bald, teetotaling, celibate monk and the dreadlocked, beer-drinking, sexually active ngakpa are equally correct. Considering the negative views of ngakpas reported by Tendzin Norbu, the motivation for a ngakpa to dress as a monk and avoid public scorn is not difficult to imagine. This criticism of hypocrisy applies just as strongly to ngakpas choosing to wear the guise of a monk as it does to monks who engage in some of the activities of the ngakpa.49 Thus far I have examined Tendzin Norbu’s defense of dreadlocks as an authentic Buddhist symbol through arguments based on iconography, scripture, and reasoning; his argument that dreadlocks are necessary for the performance of tantric ritual; and his defense of the ethical implications of wearing dreadlocks. In the treatise itself, these strands of his argument are not clearly delineated but woven together. There is one other aspect of the discussion that is less fully developed but adds another dimension to the work as a whole. After the discussion of the various types of dreadlock hairstyles mentioned in different tantras, Tendzin Norbu explains that once a ngakpa has received the first empowerment (the socalled vase empowerment), cutting the hair would damage the pledges taken on during that empowerment. As he writes, “In brief, hairs and even body-hairs, are action d5akinis and [if one cuts the hair] there will be the offense of killing them.”50 Here, we are no longer concerned with hair as a symbol but rather with a tantric view of the actual nature of hair itself. This shift from the historical, scriptural, symbolic, and ethical into the ontological is passed over without further comment as Tendzin Norbu resumes his excoriation of those who selectively observe vows plucked from different systems while ignoring those they do not care for. It appears again, however, in response to the objection that dreadlocks are a marker of affiliation to the tradition of the ancients (rnying ma) who follow the Old Translations but are rejected by those who follow the New (gsar ma). Tendzin Norbu replies to this charge with a story. One of the most renowned representatives of the monastic traditions of the New Schools was the Kashmiri monk-scholar ‡akya¶ri (1127–1225). He explains that while ‡akya¶ri was in Tibet, the chief disciple of Nyangrel Nyima Öser (1136–1204), the famous ngakpa, decided to become ordained as a monk. He approached ‡akya¶ri and requested ordination, but the venerable monk replied that the benefit for beings would be greater if he retained his current appearance and status. 49 See, e.g., Yol mo Bstan ’dzin nor bu, Ral pa’i rnam bshad, 93: “Ngakpas chasing after fame, shaving their heads and dyeing their clothes, monks can’t be told from ngakpas. The [degenerate] time of Padmasambhava’s has arrived right now and even I, ‘the Powerful’ feel dejected.” 50 Ibid., 90–91. History of Religions 105 Undeterred, the ngakpa returned again with a hair-cutting knife in hand and asked for ordination. Again, ‡akya¶ri refused, and this time he explained, “Noble son, there are many yidam deities abiding in every single hair, it is not permissible to shave them.” In the treatise, this story is intended to show that one of the great luminaries of the New Schools had a profound respect for the tradition of wearing dreadlocks. However, by claiming that the hairs themselves contain the divine beings of the tantric world, the comment echoes Tendzin Norbu’s earlier statement that all hairs are action dakinis. While the implications of this view are not articulated in the treatise, we might glimpse some of them by briefly returning to Tendzin Norbu’s autobiography.51 Although Tendzin Norbu’s treatise focuses on dreadlocks, they are always understood as being part of the ensemble of a ngakpa’s accoutrements. Their primacy in this group derives from their unique status at the periphery of body, simultaneously a part of the body and yet able to be cut off without pain or permanent damage. This sets the dreadlocks apart from the white robes, earrings, and other items associated with the ngakpa. Rooted to the head as they are, the dreadlocks are always present, whereas the other parts of the ensemble may be donned and removed for particular circumstances and situations. Despite these differences, many of the arguments about dreadlocks apply equally to tantric paraphernalia such as drums, tridents, ritual daggers, and the lattice-like garment of carved bone known as “bone ornaments.”52 As a ngakpa, Tendzin Norbu was particularly renowned for his mastery of rituals for turning back enemies, and he performed these elaborate rituals for the sake of powerful patrons on a number of occasions. Tendzin Norbu’s account of a ritual he performed in order to turn back a Mongol invasion reinforces the ritual importance of the ngakpa’s accoutrements. He describes binding his hair in a topknot with a special cloth, smearing his face with ashes, donning a special ritual gown, and carrying a horn, a bow, and arrows as he enters the courtyard. Then, “While the orchestra of monks was playing what’s called ‘decrescendo’ there was a rush of sensation and I was certain that at that moment a group of many Mongols were headed toward defeat. There is no costume that transforms one’s vision more intensely than that costume of tantric robes and bone ornaments.”53 Aside from how impressive the ngakpa’s ritual costume must 51 The understanding that each single hair is either a dakini or the abode of a yidam deity is rooted in the views of tantric physiology, body mandalas, and the root tantric infraction of “despising the aggregates.” While beyond the scope of the present article, I hope to address these somatic aspects of Tibetan tantra in a future publication. 52 See Jean-Luc Estournel, “Rus-pa’i-rgyan: Parures rituelles tibétaines en os humain,” Histoire de l’art 20 (1992): 39–49. 53 Yol mo Bstan ’dzin nor bu, Rang gi rtogs brjod, 233. 106 Dreadlocks Treatise have appeared to the audience (and patrons), Tendzin Norbu specifically attributes his clairvoyant vision of the ritual’s effects to these accoutrements. The typical understanding of ritual costumes and clothing is turned inside out—rather than external symbols representing his internal mental powers, the ngakpa’s costume transforms the perceptions of the one who wears them. v. later echoes of the hero’s roaring laughter Tendzin Norbu’s particular view of the importance and meaning of dreadlocks must be understood in relation to the local and historical contexts in which he lived and wrote. However, many of the central issues that I have discussed above are also seen in the works of later authors who do not seem to have been aware of Tendzin Norbu’s treatise. In the early nineteenth century, a ngakpa from northeastern Tibet named Shabkar Tsokdruk Rangdrol (1781–1851) composed an autobiography filled with accounts of his travels across the Tibetan plateau and records of the spontaneous songs for which he was renowned. Two of the songs included are clever replies to the questions of people wondering why he wears his hair in that style. The first song provides seven different reasons ranging from the symbolic (“to be reminded of the guru’s kindness”) and the practical (“to keep my ears protected from the wind”) to the social (“so I don’t fit in with other people”). This last reason—that wearing long dreadlocks marks one as separate from society—comes through very clearly in the second song, where Shabkar emphasizes the benefits of the scorn with which people view him. The song begins with the explanation that “keeping my hair like this / Makes everyone doubt and mistrust me.”54 Subsequent verses express how this doubt and mistrust leads to a lack of faith, which leads to a lack of offerings, which leads to freedom from attachment to possessions, which leads to progress in practice, which leads to experience and realization, which leads to benefit for others. The final verse reads, “Such are the reasons for wearing / This long hair that benefits others.”55 The rhetorical effect of the song turns the negative judgments of the questioner upsidedown. Seeing the ngakpa’s dreadlocks as a marker of a derelict with dubious ethics, the questioner asks why anyone would wear his hair that way. Shabkar then draws a causal chain leading from that stigma directly to the Buddhist ideal of realization and benefit for others. In doing so, he implicitly suggests that the alternative, shaving his head, would make him 54 Shabkar Tsogdruk Rangdrol, The Life of Shabkar: The Autobiography of a Tibetan Yogin, trans. Matthieu Ricard (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), 108. 55 Ibid. History of Religions 107 susceptible to the social approval and patronage that led to the excessive wealth and power of certain monastic institutions. In a playful way, Shabkar’s song radically shifts the meaning of his long hair, transforming a stigma into a badge of honor. This same effort at an intervention in the “grammar of hair sybolism” may be seen in a 2003 article by Nyida Heruka, a ngakpa from the same region as Shabkar Tsokdruk Rangdrol. The author was one of the founders of the Ngakmang Institute, an organization devoted to research into the ngakpa tradition and its promotion in Tibet and internationally. Although the language of Nyida Heruka’s “Investigations of Ngakpa Culture” seems to borrow as much from modern Tibetan social science as it does from classical Buddhist sources, the arguments themselves are strikingly reminiscent of Tendzin Norbu’s treatise.56 Although every day there seem to be more and more people taking an interest in the culture of ngakpas from all over Tibet in modern times, because there are very few studies or textbooks about ngakpas, many people don’t know anything about the culture and costume of those called “ngakpas.” Among the groups of Tibetan Buddhists, there are only a rare few who know the special commentaries on the class of “those with white robes and long hair” [= ngakpas]. Buddhists and Non-Buddhist individuals who pretend to be learned, as well as some influenced by idiotic sectarian bias, say that ngakpas are ignorant of Buddhist scriptures, have not practiced the development and completion [stages of tantric practice], drink beer, and enjoy women. On the other hand, the identification [of ngakpas] as a type of itinerant Buddhist who is only a village priest is the cause for them to be degraded and belittled. Moreover, there are some articles and journals that are very incorrect. Consequently, it seems to be extremely important to open the minds of the general faithful public, cultural researchers, and young novice ngakpas with an introduction to the ngakpa’s culture.57 Although the realm of public opinion has here moved beyond the village talk that Tendzin Norbu addressed and into the pages of textbooks and journals, the charges against ngakpas are largely the same: they are illiterate ritualists primarily interested in alcohol and sex. Nyida Heruka goes on to offer an erudite and extremely thorough overview of the entire ngakpa tradition, organized under five topics: (1) the meaning of the term ngakpa, (2) the ngakpa’s costume, (3) the ngakpa’s education and activities, (4) the ngakpa’s vows and conduct, and (5) the 56 Nyi zla He ru ka, “Sngags pa’i shes rig la dpyad pa’i gtam,” Sngags pa’i shes rig dus deb 6 (2003): 82–89. I would like to thank E. Gene Smith of the Tibetan Buddhist Resource Center for providing me with a copy of this article. 57 Ibid., 82. 108 Dreadlocks Treatise ngakpa community and its accomplishments. The section on the ngakpa’s costume reprises some of the same ideas found in Tendzin Norbu’s treatise. For example, “In general, the ngakpas are said to hold the vow of the ‘Uncontrived Three’: the clothes of uncontrived white, the hair of uncontrived dreadlocks, and the mind of the uncontrived innate nature.” Nyida Heruka’s recent essay, however, contains passages far more descriptive than anything in Tendzin Norbu’s polemical tract. Dreadlocks should be understood as the distinct units that come about when one does not do any kind of washing, shaving, or cutting of the hair whatsoever and the strands clump together. When ngakpas stay for many months or years in retreat without washing or brushing their hair, the hair clumps together and forms dreadlocks. This is called “retreat hair” (mtshams skra). Then, when it is kept without being cut and the locks are wrapped at the crown of one’s head and tied with a dreadlock-cord, these are known as “coiled locks” (lcang lo) and some call it a topknot (thor cog). In general, just as the hair must be shaved according to the monk’s vows, the hair must be left according to the ngakpa’s pledges.58 In the almost ethnographic objectivity of the voice in this passage, there seems to be yet another echo of Tendzin Norbu’s very different voice. Just as Tendzin Norbu adopted the framework of a monastic debate in his attempt to combat and alter negative perceptions of ngakpas, three centuries later, Nyida Heruka adopts the classificatory language of modern Tibetology in his defense of the tradition.59 Tendzin Norbu, Shabkar Tsokdruk Rangrol, and Nyida Heruka share a focus on the material in their discussions of a ngakpa idenitity. Their writings challenge our tendency to read physical symbols as secondary representatives of a primary meaning that is immaterial by foregrounding the superficial. The complexity of Tendzin Norbu’s treatise presents a traditional exegesis of hair that is every bit as sophisticated as the theories of hair symbolism developed by scholars of religion, anthropologists, and psychologists. Comfortable with the complexity of a hermeneutic pluralism, Tendzin Norbu interprets dreadlocks in several different registers at once. His exploration of hair symbolism resonates with aspects of all the modern theories in a manner that bears witness to the explanatory power of each while drawing attention to the inevitable limits of monistic reduction. 58 Ibid., 88–89. Some other differences between the two works include Nyida Heruka’s approving mention of the custom of Dudjom Jikdrel Yeshé Dorjé (1904–87) washing and brushing the hair but never cutting it (a popular alternative to dreadlocks for contemporary ngakpas) and his less enthusiastic description of a trend in Amdo whereby ngakpas shave the circumference of the head but leave the hair at the crown of the head long. This latter style he suspects of having a Chinese origin. 59 History of Religions 109 Although all of the apologists for dreadlocks emphasize the uncontrived and naturally occurring qualities of the matted locks, their descriptions of the proper way to wear them include precise instructions on care and styling. This reflects an understanding of the necessity of framing for the communication of symbolic meaning. Just as the long matted locks of the ascetic must be artfully bound above the head, the social and religious understandings of the hairstyle must be shaped and bound through interpretation and explanation. Recognizing that the basic meanings of dreadlocks within the system of tantric Buddhist practice were consistently misunderstood by Tibetan society, Tendzin Norbu sought to shift this social meaning through a variety of arguments. Drawing from Buddhist history and scripture, ritual practice, codes of ethics, and tantric views of the body, Tendzin Norbu attempted to restyle the ngakpa’s dreadlocks from the stigma of ignorance and licentiousness to the essential mark of tantric practice. In one view, the fact that Shabkar and Nyida Heruka felt the need to defend ngakpas against the same negative views might suggest that Tendzin Norbu’s attempt was not entirely successful. However, all three authors note the importance of “not fitting in” as one of the defining characteristics of dreadlocks. If the style became entirely acceptable throughout society, it would lose its meaning as a symbol of tantric practice. Therefore, a more realistic reading might see the continuity between Nyida Heruka’s article, Shabkar’s song, and Tendzin Norbu’s treatise as evidence of their success in maintaining the authenticity and viability of a tradition that can flourish only at the margins. Georgetown University