Uniting Outer and Inner Solitude: Patrul Rinpoche’s Advice for Alak Dongak Gyatso

Published December 21, 2014 by patriciasnodgrass

Originally posted on Adam S. Pearcey:


A Hermit at Prayer, Gerrit Dou (1646-1675)

In his account of the famous debate between Ju Mipham Namgyal Gyatso (’ju mi pham rnam rgyal rgya mtsho, 1846-1912) and Alak Dongak Gyatso (a lags mdo sngags rgya mtsho, 1824–1902),[1] Khetsun Sangpo Rinpoche tells us that Alak Dongak was so upset at losing the contest and seeing his treatise on Dzogchen burned in front of his teacher, Patrul Rinpoche (rdza dpal sprul o rgyan chos kyi dbang po, 1808-1887), that he broke down and wept.[2]

When I recently asked Tulku Thondup Rinpoche about this, he mentioned another possible explanation for Alak Dongak’s distress:

Khenpo Chemchok, my own teacher, used to say that on one occasion Könme Khenpo, my predecessor, asked Alak Dongak if it was true that he had cried after the debate with Mipham. Yes, he replied, he had wept, but it was not because he had lost…

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Dazzling Images of the Brain Created by Neuroscientist-Artist

Published December 12, 2014 by patriciasnodgrass

Dazzling Images of the Brain Created by Neuroscientist-Artist.

Thinking back on my Anatomy and Physiology courses in college, the idea that the brain could house beautiful neurological landscapes was something that never occured to me. Indeed, the only thing I really wanted after dissecting a sheep’s brain was a bucket to throw up in. But after looking at these astonishing works of art this morning, I can see how truly beautiful our inner world truly is.

Take a look at these astounding works of art by Neurologist Gregg Dunn. I know, that after looking at these pieces of art, I will never regard the brain in the same light again.

Shiraz: a short story by Patricia Snodgrass

Published December 4, 2014 by patriciasnodgrass

“I’m keeping the lamps.”

The woman who said this  was a slender blonde, properly coutured and Gucci attired. Her eyes obscured by the trendiest of sunglasses, her hair shining in the midday sun. She tapped out a long cigarette from the case and toyed with it.

The petite brunette wearing a blue sun dress sitting across from her ignored her glass of Shiraz. the play of her sandled toe against the cobble-stoned walkway upon which the table rested telegraphed a kind of sweet sadness.

“I don’t care about the lamps. The only thing I want in the world is to spend another hour–“



The blonde drank her wine, smoked her cigarette and demanded a second glass.

“I always loved you,” The brunette said after a proper length of time had elapsed. “I would brag about you. This is my sister, my wonderful, beautiful, brilliant and talented sister. She is going to be a famous ballerina one day.” She smiled. “And so you did.”


“All I ever wanted was to be your sister.”

“You were so filthy. Even as a child there was something nasty about you. You disgust me.  I can’t bear the sight of you.”


“We cannot even be friends? Not even now, especially with–“

“You can’t have the lamps.”

The brunette finished her Shiraz. Her sister checked her watch.

“Elena will be here soon.”

“I don’t care.”

“I guess we are done then,” The brunette said as if she read the words from a tombstone.

The blonde rose, and gestured for the waiter with her credit card.

“I wish it could have been different between us,” the brunette said. “All I ever wanted was your approval.” She offered a wan smile. “Can’t you like me, not even a little?”

The blonde paused for a moment, then turned her back on her sister and walked out into the crowd.

The brunette watched as the blonde disappeared into the throng of New Orleans shoppers and party goers.. Sighing, she ordered another shiraz and waited for her Elena.

Encounter with American Children

Published December 2, 2014 by patriciasnodgrass


I encountered this blog post on my Facebook news feed. I loved it so much, i  thought I’d share it with you. Please visit this lovely nun’s site and show her some love <3

Originally posted on Good Dhamma Blog:

One time as I walked a mile-long residential road that leads from my mother’s home towards the Vihara I came across a batch of young boys vigorously playing in the street. It was a group with mixed backgrounds, several of them looking white, a few black, two or three perhaps Asian; a few of the black kids looked somewhat familiar from saying hello on past walks but the rest were new to me. They paused to greet me pleasantly as I passed.

Then one of the white boys, having gained the idea from who knows where, suddenly made a bow in my direction. Not an Asian anjali, for that gesture is unknown to our culture. Rather, he made a full Shakespearean bow, bending at the waist with left hand behind his back and right hand making an outward flourish. Quite surprised I nodded appreciation, exclaimed, “Oh very good!” and…

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Read “The Old Man at the Bridge,” A Short Story by Ernest Hemingway

Published December 2, 2014 by patriciasnodgrass

Originally posted on Biblioklept:

“The Old Man at the Bridge” by Ernest Hemingway:

An old man with steel rimmed spectacles and very dusty clothes sat by the side of the road. There was a pontoon bridge across the river and carts, trucks, and men, women and children were crossing it. The mule-drawn carts staggered up the steep bank from the bridge with soldiers helping push against the spokes of the wheels. The trucks ground up and away heading out of it all and the peasants plodded along in the ankle deep dust. But the old man sat there without moving. He was too tired to go any farther.
It was my business to cross the bridge, explore the bridgehead beyond and find out to what point the enemy had advanced. I did this and returned over the bridge. There were not so many carts now and very few people on foot, but the old…

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Blog Day

Published November 29, 2014 by patriciasnodgrass

I uploaded numerous teachings from Lama Jigme Gyatso .You can find those under his tab. I have other things to add today as well so keep track of what’s under the tab sections. More updates to follow throughout the day.


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