Preface to the New Edition

It is wth great joy that we present this new edition of Blazing Splendor: The Memoirs of a Dzogchen Yogi with Wisdom Publications, nearly twenty years since its ?rst publication. Though it has now been almost three decades since Kyabje Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche’s passing, his wisdom and great kindness continue to bless us through his own written words and through the lives and teachings of his students, especially his remarkable sons and grandchildren, and his reincarnation, all of whom now carry Rinpoche’s legacy forward to a new generation.

This edition is printed with a full- color interior, which allows us to bring the rich imagery and photography to life in an extraordinary way. We have included new color images whenever possible. The text has been revised lightly with updated Tibetan phonetics and some minor clari?cations. We are also delighted to include a beautiful foreword for this edition by the Venerable Tenga Rinpoche, a contemporary of Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche who established Benchen Monastery in exile in Nepal. Tenga Rinpoche kindly granted our request to interview him about his memories of Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche in 2010, just years before his passing in 2012. We are honored to share those re?ections with you here.

We hope you enjoy this special edition of Blazing Splendor. May Rin-poche’s words speak to you now as clearly as ever and inspire you in your practice and in your aspirations for full awakening.

- Marcia Binder Schmidt California, USA, 2023

Grandmother's Mission

As my grandmother, Könchok Paldrön, supervised the loading of her yaks for the long, hard journey from Kham to Lhasa, she was in a hurry. She was an elderly woman now, and too much time had already gone by since she had last seen her son, who was living in Central Tibet—a two- month journey. She was determined to start searching for him.

My grandmother made her feelings very clear, lamenting: “My father was Chokgyur Lingpa, the great revealer of hidden treasures,³ and no matter where he went, people gathered around him like iron ?lings around a magnet. During my father’s short life, his fame and glory, his in?uence, and the number of his disciples seemed to surpass even those of the eminent Karmapa. Yet for all that, he left his body behind and me along with it.

“Then my mother and brother passed on, too. Everyone I love has abandoned me. Who could be more cheerless than a lost orphan like me? Even my youngest child, Tersey Tulku, has discarded me to stay with his illustrious master in Central Tibet. People say he is unfurling the four enlightened activities among the nobles in Lhasa.4 Even the king of Bhutan caters to him—the king gave my Tersey so many pres-ents that ?fty pack animals were needed to carry them. He nurtures a ?ock of eight hundred disciples—but he leaves me, his mother, all alone here in Kham.

“The travels of my father, Chokgyur Lingpa, were like a wave sweep-ing through the land, pulling everyone in its wake, no matter how learned or accomplished they might be. And no matter what school they belonged to, all the masters of his time received his teachings. Hav-ing witnessed such greatness, how can I be impressed by anything these days? I hear all kinds of stories about the so- called great deeds of Tersey Tulku. Tulku, yet compared to the activities of his grandfather, they seem no more than foam on water.
“And now here I am, Chokgyur Lingpa’s only remaining child, all alone. Tears have ?owed from my eyes day and night so that my pillow is moist with tears. I feel that all things beautiful and positive are no more than ?owers in an autumn meadow—they are splendid but don’t last long.”

What triggered my grandmother’s outburst? Uncle Tersey was extremely learned in her father’s tradition of the New Treasures, the forty thick volumes of teachings revealed by Chokgyur Lingpa. From an early age, Tersey had had many visions and received prophecies, but, being a “hidden yogi,” one who never ?aunts his accomplishments or realiza-tion, he rarely spoke of them.

One day, Uncle Tersey left Kham to go on pilgrimage. A very strong man, he carried his own provisions on his back, unlike most travelers in the steep terrain of Tibet. He didn’t have a single pack animal, just two trusted attendants, each carrying a backpack of their own. They traveled everywhere, even to the holy places in India. It was during this pilgrim-age that he became a disciple of the illustrious Shakya Shri.5
Word reached Kham that the bearded Tersey Tulku was living the untroubled life of a lama- yogi, and the stories were quite impressive. But none of this fooled my grandmother, who always responded to such news with “That too will pass!”

And she began to worry about her youngest son. “I can’t sleep as long as he is ?oundering about Central Tibet,” she said. “I must go fetch him. He is my youngest and the reincarnation of my brother who met an early death. Tersey has stayed in Central Tibet too long. If he won’t return to Chokgyur Lingpa’s seat to assume his responsibilities, I’ll have to go and bring him back myself!”

Since they couldn’t let their elderly mother travel the long journey to Central Tibet alone, her three eldest sons had to prepare to accompany her.

Our family eventually found Uncle Tersey at Kyipuk, where Shakya Shri had lived and taught. When they asked him to return with them to Kham, he replied, “Sure, I’ll come back, but ?rst I must ?nish my pilgrimage.” Five years passed before they were all able to return home to Khan.

It was during this journey that I was born.