On the afternoon of June 20th, the moment has finally come: Rinpoche is coming to my historic parsonage in the Mecklenburg Lake District for the first time.
Three months have passed since I signed the purchase contract for the historic parsonage.
Nine months ago, I first came into contact with the parsonage. Through a dream! https://katharina-kaintz.com/en/the-parsonage-story/the-pond/
The week before I dreamed of the parsonage, Rinpoche had been visiting us in Berlin. He had practised Sur and Naga Offering with us.
Before Rinpoche said goodbye to me last September, he promised to come back the following year. For a Troma retreat. Wherever that might be.
And today, the day has finally come! Rinpoche will come to the historic parsonage in the Mecklenburg Lake District for the first time.
Or rather: to Pema Choling!
Because that is what the future Buddhist centre in the historic parsonage is to be called.
Rinpoche decided this.
After I informed him about my dream via WhatsApp and asked whether he could imagine living and working there with me.
As Head Lama.
I had only just spoken to the estate agent on the phone and arranged a viewing appointment.
But I knew from the start: none of this would make sense without Rinpoche.
No matter how astonishing the dream, or how beautiful the parsonage.
What was I — clueless and ignorant when it comes to the secrets of Buddhist tantra — supposed to do with a Buddhist meditation house?
Because that was what the dream had told me: I should buy it, so that “the sangha can practise there.” That’s how I had explained it to Suriyel in the dream.
No Rinpoche, no Buddhist meditation house.
At first, Rinpoche reacted enthusiastically to my offer. Unfortunately, due to a misunderstanding: he had thought I was offering him a permanent home and workplace in the Spiritual Community in Prenzlauer Berg.
“I really like this place!” he wrote back. “Berlin is great!”
“Sorry, Rinpoche!” I wrote back. “It’s not in Berlin!”
Instead of the beautiful townhouse in Berlin, all I could offer Rinpoche was a life at the end of the world, in a property badly in need of renovation.
His reaction was subdued: “I’ll do a Mo when I’ll be back in Kathmandu.”
A “Mo” is a prophecy.
How it would turn out was completely open.
Rinpoche was touring through Europe at the time. He wouldn’t be back in Kathmandu before the end of November at the earliest.
By then, the parsonage might already have been sold to another buyer.
I decided that the whole business with the parsonage had been a bizarre glitch in my tantra practice.
Nothing more.
Suriyel visibly relaxed at Rinpoche’s muted enthusiasm.
Rinpoche didn’t know what to make of it.
Suriyel, on the other hand, knew exactly what to make of it: he thought absolutely nothing of it!
So my shock — and Suriyel’s — was all the greater when, three days later, I received a completely unexpected message from Rinpoche.
I will never forget that moment!
We were all together at the Tibetan Buddhist Centre in Friedrichshain.
As every Sunday, Suriyel first led the Green Tara practice, then the weekly Riwo Sang Chö.
After the practices — still sitting in my place in the temple — I switched off my phone’s flight mode.
A message popped up.
From Rinpoche.
“Mo is good,” he wrote.
“Name of Centre is ‘Pema Choling’.”
“You will organise everything.”
Nine dramatic months later, Rinpoche is expected for the first time at his Pema Choling, in the historic parsonage.
Just before 3pm, Suriyel sends me a message from Berlin: “We’re setting off now.”
We have two hours left before Rinpoche arrives.
Just enough time to set up the improvised altar in the pavilion, prepare dinner, and pull the last weeds by the entrance to Pema Choling.
We even manage to get every member of the sangha showered and changed before Rinpoche pulls up.
When the moment finally arrives, we line up side by side in front of the entrance, each of us holding a katak — the traditional white scarf — and an envelope. Inside: an odd number of banknotes.
That is exactly how it must be done when a high lama arrives.
That’s what I learned from my Khandro last September.
We are no longer a scattered little sangha whose practice is merely tolerated at the Tibetan Buddhist Centre in Friedrichshain.
No!
We are the sangha of Pema Choling.
Which is why we need to become more professional now.
That’s what I explain to the other sangha members, while making sure everyone stands properly in line.
Shortly afterwards, Suriyel’s Toyota turns into the driveway. With Rinpoche in the passenger seat.
He looks a little surprised to see all of us lined up — kataks draped over outstretched arms, envelopes in hand.
This much formality is not something he’s used to from the Berlin sangha.
Visibly pleased, he lets me greet him, places the kataks around my neck first, then around everyone else’s in turn, presses his forehead against theirs, and accepts the envelopes.
Then he looks around, curious.
“Rinpoche, the first time you are entering Pema Choling you have to walk through the main entrance!” I explain to him.
Organisationally, that makes no sense. The main entrance leads into the unrenovated part of the house, which we can’t use yet.
But at some point in the future, that will be the entrance to the centre.
I’ve already labelled the doorbell “Pema Choling.”
Rinpoche solemnly climbs the steps — cleared of weeds — up to the door. Suriyel holds the door to the hallway open for him.
As Rinpoche steps across the threshold, tears come to my eyes.
We really did it!
Here is Rinpoche! At Pema Choling!
All of this — it dawns on me in this moment — is a single miracle!
A small, round Buddhist lama from Nepal, born in Mugu, a remote province on the border with Tibet.
In a Protestant parsonage, built in 1750, in the Mecklenburg countryside.
Brought together by a dream…
Slowly and with deep concentration, Rinpoche moves from room to room, quietly reciting a mantra without pause.
We follow him in silence.
Tattered wallpaper hangs on the walls, plaster crumbles from the ceiling.
Within us: stillness and joy.
