BEYOND THE HIMALAYAS
CHAPTER FOUR
It was early morning when I awoke, and the music of the night before was still part of me. The soft flowing parts of Mendelssohn which Geshi Rimpoche had chosen were still "living" with me, and there was a sense of deeper freedom now.
He also was up early. It was summer-time and he told me that he seldom missed seeing the sun rise in the morning. As yet it had not risen. It was just beginning to show a reflection from the tops of the mountains covered with the eternal snows.
We both sat down to watch the rays of colour changing from dark red into the brighter shades. Nowhere in the world can there be seen a more glorious sight than in Tibet when the sun is rising or when it is setting behind the snow-clad peaks of the mighty Himalayas.
As the sun rose, the rays were reflected from the snow that had become crisp and crystal-like through the below-zero atmosphere during the night. All the colours of the rainbow began to show themselves in the dark blue background of the sky, while the sun changed from dark shades of red into the lighter shades of orange; the sky lost its dark blue background, the twinkling stars faded, and the bright blue background of the sky appeared.
I was lost in thought at this wonderful sight. Then Geshi Rimpoche broke the spell.
He said, "You know, music has colours, and if only we could hear the sound of this harmony of colour it would make a perfect symphony - it would be like the music of the spheres."
"Yes," I replied, "the Creator created a reflection of Himself in the great masters of music."
I wanted to draw him out on this subject, and I gave him the lead. He must have read my thoughts, for he said:
"My son, I would like to talk to you this morning about music. It is part of your study, you know. I do not mean just the composition of notes but the creative and curative value of music."
"There is nothing I would like better," I assured him.
He closed his eyes, as he always did when speaking of the deeper things of Life, and in that beautiful mellow-toned voice, as if he had himself touched the very source of music, he began:
"Beautiful music is but the transposing of the music of the spheres, the expression of the great Divine Intelligence who creates all within Himself, for there cannot be anything outside Him, He being Infinite in nature, even the earth and all that is in it and on it. The soul of the earth reflects the creative expression in light, sound and colour, in rhythmic splendour," and he went on:
"Music is the eternal rhythmic waves of the Infinite expressing Himself throughout His own creation, and mankind is the most perfected instrument for this purpose. Those rhythmic waves of light, sound and colour are always flowing in perfect harmony. Any discordant note does not come from the creative Source but through man's inability to reflect the perfect rhythm."
I felt at the moment that I was in tune with that perfect rhythm and could hear dimly, as if away in the distance, music that was not of this earth. I had touched the hem of the garment of the Master and could hear what he was hearing; indeed, he stopped as if he also was listening to that perfect blending of light, sound and colour that was beyond the mind, for man's mind could reflect it only when in tune with it. Man's mind could not produce it, for it was the Eternal speaking.
"Yes," he continued, "the song of the birds, the trees in the forest, the rivers, the mountains, all have their own perfect harmonious rhythm. I have often lingered in that harmony and felt that same creative rhythm within myself. In this way I became one with the rhythm of the Universal Forces of Nature and learned to control them because they were part of myself.
"In this way, in the silence of these great mountains, I learned the magic of Nature's Forces - things that few people know - and I could reveal to your scientists knowledge that would lead to greater discoveries of the Universal Forces operating through the atomic structure of which they know very little as yet.
"When I was in tune with this rhythm I could sing with the birds, the wild animals were no longer wild, even the mountains could speak to me, and I could play my favourite instrument, the violin, to keep hundreds spellbound, because I never resisted this flow, no matter what happened about me; it was as if the rhythm was part of me."
Now, I thought to myself, this is news, for I did not know about his violin, and I must ask him to play for me. This I did later, and never had I heard such music. It was music that had not been written, and more perfect melody I had never heard before, or have heard since; it was his own composition.
He paused. He was sensitive to my thoughts; I knew that he knew them, and I smiled. Then he continued:
"Just as thinking comes before asking or acting, so does the music of the spheres come before feeling and playing, and it is this feeling that inspires the expression. The music of the spheres plays upon the soul that is tuned to it. The soul is the harp upon which the Spirit-God within expresses Himself, and according to the fullness of your heart so will His harmony be expressed in and through you. That is why you must learn to love everything, for God is everything. To love God with all your heart is to love your neighbour as yourself. Then He can speak in and through you, and there is nothing impossible unto you; anything you ask, the Universe will be quick to complete it. Above all, you will have harmony in your mind and body."
"The more harmonious you are," he said, "the more receptive you will be; so will your soul and body express Him who ever remains within you, for it is He alone that worketh perfection. Thus you will be strong in mind and body, even though many years have passed; the Everpresent is ever-present, the same always, for there is no ageing of the Spirit of God."
At once I realised how he had kept so young, both in mind and body. He stopped again as if my thoughts were spoken aloud, though I had not uttered a word.
"Yes," he said, "what the inner is, so the outer must be."
Then he continued: "Rhythm and expression are the essential factors in music. Execution without rhythm has no colour-blending, but harmony and execution vitalised by rhythm are the perfect blending of all the colours, like the colours of the spectrum intermingling one with another in perfect unison. It is this blending of the colours that affects the souls of those who are listening."
Then he added, as if a thought was passing through his mind: "You will hear more about this later on."
I was going to say something, but words would not come, and he continued: "The perfect rhythm is like the ebb and flow of the tide - nothing can withstand its smooth and regular power. For the Infinite Creativeness is within the perfect rhythm. The Creator and His creation are 'one', not separate, and we are in no way separated from the rhythm of the Divine Intelligence expressing Itself."
"This perfect rhythm," he explained, "is flowing through and over the earth from north to south and is polarised by the sun and the moon, rising in the east and setting in the west.
"This force now becomes electro-magnetic; it keeps the earth on its axis and holds everything on it by the power of its magnetic attraction. Should this electro-magnetic force cease to be, other magnetic currents would draw the earth towards it at such a terrific speed that it would break up into the atomic dust out of which it arose. In this electro-magnetic force lies the secret of great discoveries."
"The perfect rhythm," he said, "is rejuvenation; it makes the mind alert, the body firm. That is why we use music in healing; the mind is then freed from distractions which cause tension, and Nature is given an opportunity to harmonise every cell in the body. Mind and body then become electro-magnetic, in perfect harmony."
"The music of the spheres," he continued, "can be said to be the rhythm of the Eternal Heart of God, moving outwards and returning like the bloodstream, circulating to every cell in the body and returning to the heart to be renewed continuously. So does the pulse of the one Life move through every living soul. According to our mental and emotional freedom so is the rhythm expressed."
He added: "If the mechanism is in a state of confusion, so will the rhythm be confused. Your thoughts and feelings fly through the body cells and then out into the atmosphere and beyond."
I thought again to myself, "just like a broadcasting station."
"Yes," he said, "the whole of the ether is magnetised with these electro-magnetic waves enabling the whole world to hear and feel the Divine Broadcasting station all at the same time. East, west, north, south, up into the stratosphere and down into the bowels of the earth, there is nowhere where it is not.
"Here we are on the roof of the world, the hub as you may call it, and with our thought strongly impregnated with the Love of God we can help the world as we tune-in to the rhythm of the Universe which comes from the Heart of God."
I said to myself, "Geshi Rimpoche is not only showing me what music is but also he is revealing to me deeper knowledge, all at the same time."
He must have caught my thought again, for he said: "Practice is necessary so that you can control your instrument, but do not limit yourself to your instrument. I have heard music played badly on a good instrument and have heard beautiful expression from a very indifferent instrument, and this applies to individuals as well - the Love of God is Eternal and Ever-present and no one is separated from It.
"No two people play alike because of the many shades in feeling. While some see the notes on the score, others feel the music in their soul. There is one saving grace for bad music," he said with a touch of humour, "and that is that it does not last. The predominating harmonious rhythm makes it fade away into nothingness whence it arose, because it is not Real. Like an error in a sum, where does it go when the sum is corrected? It fades into nothingness, simply because there is no law upon which it can rest. The law of mathematics, only, exists, likewise the law of harmony."
"The blending of colour," he explained, "is the secret of harmony. Have you ever seen an inharmonious blending of colour in Nature? No! There is no such thing. So is it with sound, for sound is colour and colour is sound, and Nature is expressing herself in light, colour and sound continuously.
"While practising, you should know what the sound should be. Do not force it; something inside you will tell you when it is right. Make your execution as perfect as possible, then gradually increase the tempo till you play with speed and accuracy, without strain. Remember, rhythm and expression must not be sacrificed for speed."
"There is also such a thing as over-practice," he pointed out, "the fresher you are the better your movements will be. The mind repeats what is done, and therefore a wrong habit is difficult to correct. A rest period is good because it gives the mind time to re-arrange the consciously-made movements. Accuracy is therefore essential. Actually you are learning to play when you are not playing, for the mind takes up the work when you give it the opportunity.
"You have found that after a rest you can play a piece easily, a piece you found difficult before. This is because the mind has been making the adjustments while you rested the mechanism. It is like a problem you try to solve, one which for a time eludes you. You go to sleep and when you awake you have the solution. The mind has worked it out when you gave it the opportunity.
"In making your movements you must hear and feel as well as lose yourself in the music.
"Self-consciousness confuses the mechanism. The mind can think of only one thing at a time. Thus, when you are thinking of yourself, and then the music, you are moving backwards and forwards, from one to the other. The easiest way to overcome this habit is to lose yourself in the rhythm. You will soon find that the rhythm takes up the space between the two conscious mental activities, and then the inner mind begins to work with freedom, for it is from there that you really play. It is all within, and, as you practise, your movements, your music, your rhythm are all merged into one as you play. Be as calm as the depth of the ocean - then you will reflect God's perfect harmony."
"The Eternal looks out through humanity," he went on, "and through humanity He spins the weave and web - the rhythm of Life. Never imitate anybody. You must express your own individuality; then you will have the originality that amounts to genius.
"The blending of the notes is very important. Emphasis should be made at the beginning of the phrase, a little more value should be given to the first note in the bar, and listen carefully to the overtones, blending them into a perfect phrase.
"In legato melodies do not cut off a note with a hard edge before the next one comes in; listen to the overtones, and let the timbre or quality sound until such time as it reaches the point where the progression must go on. Then smoothly flow into the next note without a break, so that you cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. The perfect blending of the overtone carries the body of the music in harmonious rhythm."
I thought to myself, here is something rare put into words; I almost felt the smooth flowing tones within myself. I have studied music for some years, first with the violin, then with the bagpipes. I must have been fairly good for I happened to win the championship at Stamfordbridge at the Coronation Highland Gathering in 1911, and I knew what Geshi Rimpoche said was true. As he spoke, his voice was like music; he might have been playing a piece of exquisite beauty.
Then he continued: "Watch the progression and shape of your phrase so that you can move naturally to the point of climax, and then fall back again into the next phrase, with ease and smoothness; this gives a sense of rhythm that you seldom hear, unless it is from a great artist."
Here he opened his eyes and said, "Would you like me to go on?"
Until then, I had not spoken and I at once replied: "Oh, yes, please; this is what I have been waiting for, ever since I began to study music."
There had been a certain amount of tension in my concentration because I had not wanted to miss a word, and I think he knew it.
"All right," he responded, "we will go on," and he proceeded:
"The point of climax may be treated in different ways according to the inner feeling and interpretation.
"For instance, in an appassionata passage you may gradually accelerate tempo and strengthen tone, giving more stress to each succeeding emphasis up to the point of climax, or you may broaden successive chords, holding back the final accent for a breathless moment to increase intensity.
"A device used by Beethoven is to pile up a chord passage, strength upon strength, with increasing accent, but the expected crash on the final emphasis does not eventuate. Instead, we get a chord played suddenly pianissimo, surprising the ear with unexpected beauty and the realisation of a depth of inner mystery.
"Mozart, when asked what he thought the most effective device in music, said, 'No music.'
"Used with artistry the complete silence of a pause in music, or the moment of poise at the height of a phrase, can be fraught with the greater sense of inner meaning and beauty.
"You may move your audience on the wings of a soaring phrase, then hold them suspended at the height, revealing in a moment of time the Eternity of Spirit, then drop back on the descent of the phrase to the light of common day."
I drew a deep breath, for here was a treat that music lovers would deeply enjoy; even those who had risen to the peak of their artistry could benefit from it. By the time this thought passed through my mind Geshi Rimpoche was proceeding and I had to pull myself together so as not to miss a word. I am happily blessed with a sort of photographic mind for things that interest me, and these impressions seem to be indelible. I was fortunate, too, in having made a few notes to remind me of various points.
He paused and then resumed: "Or you may move through a legato melody and, with a slight hesitation, lingeringly delay the moment of beauty, increasing the anticipation so that when the sound strikes the ear it comes with exquisite relief, satisfying the longed-for fulfilment of beauty."
"Again," he said,. "you may reach the point of climax and linger on it lovingly with a caressing touch, but this freedom must be obtained within the law - that is, the realisation of the rhythmic flow - the balance of one phrase with the other and the co-ordination of the whole into perfect unity. It is like the perfect union between two souls in the bliss of a perfect love, two souls that become one in that complete and final ecstasy.
"Chopin had a wonderful airy grace with which his fingers glided, almost flew, over the keyboard, producing a tone like velvet, a slightly veiled yet silvery sonorousness. Qualities which Chopin regarded as paramount were delicacy of touch, intelligence of conception, purity of feeling. To Chopin the worst sin was a dull mechanical dexterity."
Geshi Rimpoche waited for a moment as if to let the last few words sink in, and then he continued: "Throughout the whole of his playing Chopin employed a certain rocking movement with a most enchanting effect, the undulation of the melody being like a skiff upon the bosom of tossing waves. This peculiar style of execution was his idiosyncrasy, his sign manual so to speak. It set the seal upon all his compositions in which it is indicated by the term tempo rubato. This apparent disregard for time was with him a charming originality of manner, a flexible fluctuating languorous movement, a measured rhythm balance and sway best comprehended by his own countrymen who, having an innate, intuitive understanding of his meaning, were able to follow the fluctuation of the aerial and spiritual blue which it represented."
Stopping for a moment to think, Geshi Rimpoche said: "I am sure I read something like that about Chopin - I think it was Moscheles who wrote it," and he continued: "Purity of expression can result only when you are true to yourself, that is, when you express your own inner depth according to the clarity of your thought, interpretation and execution. So will your hearers receive the message and meaning which you wish to convey, and this message and meaning will correspond to the degree in which you open yourself to the flow of the Infinite Intelligence - the degree in which you realise that there is no separation in the one Life that binds us all together."
I felt like saying, as Schuman said, "that in the playing of an instrument you must be one with it, and he who cannot play 'with' it cannot play at all."
"The reason for many failures with those of great promise," Geshi Rimpoche added, "is that they do not know that the Creator and His creation are one, not separate. It makes all the difference when this is understood, not merely as an idea, by experiencing the fact that Spirit alone has voice, that God expresses Himself through the voice, through harmony, through light, sound, colour and form. He is harmony, love, wisdom, power. In this lies the power of God in man, for God is man, 'I and the Father are one.' 'The word was with God, and God was that word, and that word was made flesh,' but the flesh had no say in the matter, so the word remains immortal. We are not born of the blood or the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God."
He looked at me as if to see that I thoroughly understood what he had said which I was thankful to feel that I had done.
"Those who would express themselves in music," he affirmed, "should remember that God made the perfect instrument for His own self-expression. 'Be ye perfect as your Father in Heaven is perfect.' The soul receives, and the mind and brain direct the mechanism. If in your mind you have an idea that the mechanism is defective, that thought tends to express itself, and the more you try to get perfect expression the more active will be the reverse thought. This is what induces many failures. Remember it is continuous practice with rest periods for assimilation, with conscious awareness of the perfect rhythm, that makes a genius. One must practise slowly to master the execution of the composition. Do not slur over a difficult part; take it slowly at first and increase the tempo, but with accuracy. Know that you were born with dominion over all things.
"Understand the impersonal unity in all things, disregard personal separation, live in the conscious realisation of your oneness with the Creator of all mankind. Love your neighbour as yourself.
"Play and sing with your heart full of love, let it be a harp of exquisite melody and beauty - and those in Heaven above will rejoice as they feel your oneness with them."
I was spellbound by his understanding, his wisdom, his knowledge of all the important things in Life. I sat there deep in thought, and then I heard his voice saying in a different tone, almost as if it were a command:
"Arise, my son, we must go now, for there is a lot for you to do in the time you are with us and you must be on your way."
"Yes," I said, "but I would like to remain with you a little longer."
"That will be arranged later," he replied. "In the meantime others are waiting to see you in the flesh. It is already known among the Tibetan Yogi and Masters in the Ok Valley that you are on your way, but I would like you first to go along the Ha Chu Valley as far as Ha Dzong. There are eight monasteries quite close together on the way.
"Here is a letter to Dar Tsang, head of the Yangtang Monastery; he will put you in touch with the others. He is a master of Tumo. I have made all arrangements for you to see and understand this Science."
"Yes," I said, "I have heard of this Science, the control of the elements, of heat and cold."
"Yes, it is interesting, but after all it does not reveal Reality, though I would like you to see it done, and perhaps you will get a few lessons in it," and he smiled.
"In the monastery of Gonsaka," he continued, "you will learn of the art of travelling over vast spaces in a very short time. This is done by a form of levitation in trance. You will also see, in the Takohu Monastery, the practice of mental telepathy. This subject is very interesting and I want you to pay particular attention to it because it will be of great value to you later on." (This I did indeed find valuable, for, when I was in many different lands, although I could not speak the language, yet I could read the mind.)
"This will take you a month or more of your time."
I inquired: "What about my friend, does he come with me?"
"No," he replied, "he will be waiting for you in the Ok Valley when you arrive there."
The following day I read all the instructions that were to help me on my way, and I duly set out after taking leave of Geshi Rimpoche and my friend. With me I took my bearer, my interpreter, my bodyguard, our ponies, and one mule, leaving the others at Lingmatang, as I would have to come back that way. I was now going in the opposite direction, away from the trade route to Lhasa. I was going now behind the Himalayas that separated Bhutan from Tibet. I was told that the track was merely a footpath, very dangerous in parts because of the many landslides.
Snow leopards also were in this district. These animals look like a cross between a tiger and a wolf. They prey on the mountain goats, and are very fleet and sure of foot. They have been known to attack travellers on the path at dangerous points. On the way we saw a couple of them but they were well out of our reach. The nomads - the people who live in the plains - keep a large number of mastiff dogs to protect their stock from marauders.
We crossed the fast-flowing river, the Ama Chu, at a place called Geling Market, a market place where the inhabitants exchange things. Very little money is used; the people barter goods and seem to do very well. The exchange seems to even itself out, I was told. We passed through the market place and made our way down to a place called Sharithang at the lower end of the Chumbi Valley.
Yatung is situated about the middle of the Chumbi Valley (of which I spoke in a previous chapter). To get to Lhasa you turn to the left, but we turned to the right. The Chumbi Valley at this time of the year, May and June, is prolific with wild flowers. The mountainsides right down to the edge of the valley were covered with rhododendron trees in full bloom. The different colours, red, pink, white and purple made a wonderful picture. where the rhododendron trees reached the valley floor there were large Chinese poppies, each at least five inches in diameter, and the stems were about five feet tall. The petals were a rich yellow shade with pink edges, really beautiful to look at.
I said to my interpreter: "In London these would be worth a fortune, and here they are growing prolifically and nobody wants them." The floor of the valley was covered with wild aconite, wild gentian and delphinium.
Here was a plant which is used extensively in materia medica, especially for all types of inflammation, and it is considered the most useful drug in homeopathy - the famous aconitum. Gentian, a good tonic and an excellent stomachic, was also here. In this far inaccessible land these plants could be had by the cart load.
As we passed out of the valley we came upon the most rugged and dangerous path I had yet seen. It was not more than about two feet wide in some places, and ran along the edge of a steep precipice with a sheer drop of over a thousand feet into the Ha Chu River below. It made me dizzy to look down. In one place we passed under a rock jutting right over the path; it would be several thousand tons in weight. I walked under it, backward and forward, several times, just to experience the thrill of it.
I thought that a mountainslide might happen, for the rock hung well over the precipice. But it held on to the mountain, and how it did so was a mystery to me. Perhaps one day it will hurl itself down a thousand feet into the river bed below; if so, it will make a roaring, crashing noise like thunder.
We climbed and climbed until we reached the top of the pass and could pick out, in the distance, the valley of Wong Chu. In the foreground we could see Ha Dzong, and dotted here and there on the side of the mountain were the monasteries.
It was a new experience for me to see so many large monasteries so near one another, perched on the mountain side.
Going down the pass was even more strenuous than ascending. The bottom of the pass opened into the valley of Wong Chu, through which the Ha Chu River flowed. There we were met by a number of Tibetans on shaggy ponies.
I said to my bodyguard: "These fellows look like bandits!"
"Yes," he said, "they are."
We were outnumbered by about five to one. They closed slowly around us expecting us to put up a fight, but I knew this would be suicidal, and within me I felt that there would be some means to overcome our difficulties.
These brigands think that banditry is a gentleman's occupation, and they disdain any other kind of "work." They began to go through our possessions, and I could see that they meant to take all we had, including our ponies. All this would place us in a very awkward predicament, and I was almost at my wit's end what to do. Then suddenly I thought of my artificial eye. I knew that these fellows were very superstitious, and I had already learned something about their religion.
One of their most feared gods was a white god with only one eye, a god who brought havoc, even death, upon those who angered him. Therefore these fellows regularly propitiate him with gifts of all kinds to soothe his wrath. So, knowing this, I went straight in among them and made some weird noises calling in Tibetan for the seven hells to open up and under them. I took out my artificial eye, showed it all round, and then put it back again. You should have seen their faces! Their eyes opened wide, and in fear and trembling they threw down our things, got on their ponies and fled - we could hardly see them for dust. We split our sides laughing when we realised what an artificial eye could do. They gave us a wide berth after this, and we never saw them again. But we happened to hear weird stories about the white god who had dropped over the mountain into the Wong Chu Valley. They had taken me to be the angry god whom they feared so much.
I never let the secret leak out, that an artificial eye did the trick. What added colour to the story of the mysterious visitor was that a young lad, about nineteen years old, had the misfortune to fall down the mountainside and dislocate his shoulder. I happened to come along and set it for him. The shoulder had been "out" for only half an hour and was easily put right. This incident meant additional fame for the "white god" and I heard all about it when I got back to Lingmatang, for Geshi Rimpoche greeted me with: "My son, your fame is greater than mine, and you have been in the country for only such a little while."
We laughed heartily, you may be sure, about it all.
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