Prime Video recently released the second season of Wheel of Time, a television series based on the vast fantasy world of Robert Jordan. The first season covers the first book in the series but also pulls in aspects from later books. Rebirth is an important component of the show. 

Characters make frequent, even cynical references to the cycle of death and rebirth, while the book mentions the topic distantly and reverently. It is only referred to regarding the savior/destroyer of the world, who keeps being reborn, and the discovery of this character’s identity drives the plot. A character on the show says casually, “There is a wheel that spits out our lives,” in the midst of an everyday conversation. It’s as common a topic as the weather.

In addition to the wheel governing characters’ lives, there is a “pattern” made up of threads that dictate characters’ fates. Only one character, a seer, can see the pattern. She can tell by looking if someone is destined for great things or “important to the pattern.” Everyone is subject to the wheel of rebirth, but it seems not everyone is clearly a part of the pattern. The main characters on the show are, naturally, and part of the mystery is that you don’t know why they are important or what role they will play. Even the seer isn’t sure. (The seer is a moody character; a bartender and drinker. Seeing the innermost truth about people at a glance will do that to you.) The relationship between the wheel and the pattern is not made clear in the first season or book, but how they interact is apparently one of the saga’s major themes. (In the first episode of the second season a character muses about the wheel weaving, implying the wheel creates the pattern. Maybe.)

Richard Gombrich discusses belief in rebirth among Sri Lankan laypeople in his 1971 classic Buddhist Precept and Practice. His two categories of belief are affective and cognitive belief, with affective or conventional belief referring to the idea that personalities and memories transmigrate between lives, and cognitive belief referring to the more doctrinal notion of an impersonal karmic survival or continuation between lives. Wheel of Time seems to operate in this latter mode, and it’s key to the suspense. No one knows what their previous lives were; if they did, their paths would be much clearer.

It is accepted by all that time is a circle, that events that happened long ago will recur, and that the principal players will return to the stage to reenact the drama, but the outcomes are not necessarily predetermined.

The book series, begun in 1990, was planned at six volumes but eventually numbered fourteen, as well as a prequel and ancillary stories. Jordan died in 2007, before he could complete the work, and the final volumes were written by fellow fantasy author Brandon Sanderson, with the last one being published in 2013. I recently read the first volume, the 800-page Eye of the World, before watching the first season of the show. This to say that I’m no expert on Jordan’s world, which is huge and richly detailed. A reader of the entire series told me as much, saying that the first book (and TV series) is essentially a prologue with very little “real” information given, and that the story only gets going later. 

Early episodes of the show lacked the urgency of the book, which may seem like an odd thing when comparing an enormous book to eight fifty-minute television episodes. The first episodes were painfully slow while tearing through the plot at a dizzying speed. Unpromisingly, showrunner Rafe Judkins made his entrée into the industry as a contestant on the 2005 season of Survivor. But things pick up later.

Wheel of Time premiered in 2021, roughly a year before Rings of Power, based on J. R. R. Tolkien’s Silmarillion—also a Prime Video production—and HBO’s House of the Dragon, the Game of Thrones prequel based on the work of George R. R. Martin. Both these series received a great deal of mainstream attention, positive and negative, while interest in Wheel of Time seemed limited to fans of the books. This comparatively narrow and passionate audience may explain why the first season received such harsh criticism. Though it failed to live up to the fandom’s demanding standards, the series was somehow renewed and Season 2 earned better reviews, and more viewers.

Rebirth as a fact of life comes up frequently on the show, and is accepted as a fact across all the cultures encountered in the world of Wheel of Time. Beyond this, as the name of the show implies, it is accepted by all that time is a circle, that events that happened long ago will recur, and that the principal players will return to the stage to reenact the drama, but the outcomes are not necessarily predetermined. Some change is possible, but it’s not clear how much. Jordan himself said in a 1998 interview that “Hindu mythology” informed his writing of the series as well as the concept of time as a circle, or wheel, and that the world of Wheel of Time was meant to be a mirror of our world:

I wanted the circularity because I wanted to go into the changes by distance. So the myths and legends and a few of the stories that these people tell, some of them are based on our current events, on the present. What they are doing is based on our myths and legends. So they are the source of our myths and legends, and we are the source of theirs.

I felt that because America is a melting pot, I had at least some right to mine the mythologies of any nation that is represented in the United States. And also religion. So there are elements that come out of religious books.

The wheel is a trap that forces the same conflicts again and again, and there is one person who seems to have the power to disrupt the cycle, but who is it?

The story begins, in classic Tolkienesque fantasy fashion, in a wholesome and bucolic village. A group of young friends prepares to celebrate a seasonal festival. (In the book they are teenagers, but on the show they are older, in their 20s.) A mysterious woman named Moiraine (played by Rosamund Pike) and her grim “warder,” a warrior named Lan (Daniel Henney), arrive, in search of someone born (or reborn) in this area. Shortly afterward, monsters called trollocs invade, burn the town down, and chase Moiraine and Lan and the friends out onto the road, in search of the far-off city where they will be protected. In the show, some of the group quickly (by the fifth episode) reach their destination. In the book, none of them do, but it doesn’t matter, because arriving at the destination only creates new problems.

Wheel of Time is full of magic and monsters, which isn’t for everyone, but the series is fairly restrained in both these areas. Only certain women, known as Aes Sedai, can “channel” magic. Moiraine is one of them. We learn that men used magic long ago but abused it somehow, and the power was taken away. As the show begins, this power shows signs of returning, and the Aes Sedai have been dispatched to contain the threat. Everyone, every villager and innkeeper on the show, knows that a person will someday be reborn who can use magic far more forcefully than anyone else, and they will be called the Dragon Reborn, after the ancient wizard who is said to have “broken the world.” A few “false dragons,” men using magic, are abroad in the land, causing trouble. (The Dragon himself can be seen on YouTube from an earlier attempt to film the series that was derailed for copyright issues. But it features the underappreciated Billy Zane.)

In the book, the Dragon Reborn can only be a man, or rather a boy. In the show, it is not known what form the reincarnated wizard will take. Though skeptics might see this as pandering to modern sensibilities of equity and representation, it greatly improves the story. The reincarnated soul may even be split among multiple people, one character suggests. In the novel, it is soon made clear to any reader paying attention who the chosen one is, but the show does a much better job at concealing this important point. The uncertainty gives greater opportunity for tension within the group, and the characters are often as confused as the viewer. 

There’s a lot more to all this. There’s the Dark One, the satanic figure everyone is trying to defeat, who gives our heroes a lesson in impermanence (or is it just a threat?), saying, “Everything that means anything can be gone in an instant.” There are the Forsaken, powerful servants of the Dark One whose presence is barely hinted at in this season but whose role will loom ever larger. There is the Light, which is an undefined deity, or an aspect of the deity power. And there is the One Power, the source of Moiraine’s magic, and what the Dark One seems to draw on as well. Access to it appears to drive men mad. 

Toward the end of the first season it is revealed that, at the Eye of the World, a place of great magical power that is crucial to the mission, the young people who are not the reincarnated Dragon will be killed. Moiraine demonstrates tremendous power, doing all sorts of wizardly things, but she is not omniscient. Her failure to detect the correct figure has potentially horrendous consequences for everyone around her, and as it turns out, it’s not so great for her either.

In the world of Avatar and Legend of Korra, another franchise with rebirth at its heart, reincarnation seems to be limited to the superpowered savior of the world, and it is easy to identify this figure because they display extraordinary powers at a young age. The extended Avatar universes also borrow the Tibetan tulku system’s use of identifying toys and ritual objects of the previous incarnation. Moiraine has only vague ideas to guide her to the one she seeks, and because she doesn’t know, she exposes innocent people to great danger. The one intimate relationship she is allowed is with her boss, which goes about as well as you might expect. Moiraine’s task is a painful and lonely one that ends with decidedly mixed results. But then again, when the wheel turns again, she may get another chance to do it a bit better. 

The post Trapped on the Wheel appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

The action of Roger Zelazny’s Hugo Award-winning 1967 novel Lord of Light may be familiar to Buddhist readers—the rise of Buddhism in a Vedic or Hindu context—but the setting certainly is not. The book depicts the newly awakened Buddha on an alien world fighting against gods named Vishnu, Mara, Brahma, and Kali. The fight is not metaphorical, it’s a real battle in which the Buddha leads an army of zombies and demons in an effort to destroy “Heaven,” the Olympus-like home of the gods. Also in the fight are spaceships and giant lizards known as slizzards that are “much faster than horses.”

The book’s title refers to Maitreya, as several characters refer to the Buddha throughout, though he refers to himself most often as Sam, short for Mahasamatman. With this title Zelazny is likely thinking of Amitabha, whose name is often translated as “Infinite Light,” rather than Maitreya, whose name is related to “maitri,” or metta, meaning lovingkindness or friendliness.

Zelazny’s gods began as humans who traveled from Earth in a spaceship called the Star of India and subjugated an unnamed planet, naming its inhabitants—flamelike entities capable of possessing humans—rakshasas, or demons. The human conquerors, referred to as the First, assumed the identities of Indian gods, instituted a caste-bound society for new generations of humans, and created technology to mimic supernatural powers. 

Reincarnation is also accomplished by technological means. The oldest and most important gods have been reincarnated twenty times or more, and their identities as humans have faded but never entirely disappear. The Buddha reveals that Brahma, the chief god, was originally a human named Madeleine, for example. Brahma now presents as male, but gender fluidity is a routine matter when undergoing reincarnation. When a god dies (and this happens frequently, often at the Buddha’s hand) a replacement must be promoted, and is free to decide their gender. Mysterious beings known as the Lords of Karma maintain a temple where petitioners can come and obtain new, younger selves—as long as the Lords’ “mind scan” judges them worthy of such a privilege. For those out of favor with the Lords, there are still “bootleg body shops” in out-of-the-way places that also offer rebirth. (It’s not clear where the bodies come from, whether they are grown in vats or taken from lower-caste people.)

The gods maintain a stranglehold on technology, keeping their subjects in a perpetually pre-industrial state, using swords and plows rather than guns and tractors. They demand prayers, which travel by way of radio waves, and for which special coin-operated machines are installed outside temples. Priests can directly address their deities using video screens (though the gods often don’t answer), and fancy gadgets abound for the elites, but efforts by ordinary humans to advance technology are condemned as “Accelerationism” and are viciously suppressed. 

Into this world emerges the nobleman Siddhartha, also called Sam, who was one of the planet’s original conquerors. He lives a pleasant, undistinguished life until one day, angered by the prayer machines and the oppression of common people, he awakens and begins a planetwide rebellion. As Bernard Faure points out in 1,001 Lives of the Buddha, Zelazny in this work is influenced by Western ideas of the Buddha as a reformer of the caste system and proponent of progress. Buddhism and Accelerationism are fused into one movement, and the Buddha is heard to praise the virtues of ancient technology that the common people should be able to use. 

After losing in his battle with the gods, the Buddha departs for “Nirvana,” a golden cloud of magnetized particles that surrounds the planet. But he is summoned back from this apparently blissful existence by the radio-wave prayers of Yama, the god of death, who operates a huge lotus-shaped satellite dish. The returned Buddha attempts to unwind or reverse his enlightenment, to become an ordinary person again: “He does not meditate, seeking within the object that which leads to release of the subject… He does study the object, considering its ways, in an effort to bind himself… He tries once more to wrap himself within the fabric of Maya, the illusion of the world.” 

The gods are depicted as cynical and fraudulent, and the Buddha also describes himself this way, employing “the ancient words,” and “venerable tradition” to manipulate people. Yama says to him, “I know that you are a fraud. I know that you are not an Enlightened One. I realize that your doctrine is a thing which could have been remembered by any among the First. You chose to resurrect it, pretending to be its originator.” The Buddha replies, “Whatever the source, the message was pure, believe me. That is the only reason it took root and grew.”

But at other times the Buddha, and one of his disciples, an Angulimala-like figure who tried to kill the Buddha but was converted instead, are depicted as genuinely awakened: 

“Summer passed. There was no doubt now that there were two who had received enlightenment: Tathagatha and his small disciple, Sugata. It was even said that Sugata was a healer, and that when his eyes shone strangely and the icy touch of his hands came upon a twisted limb, that limb grew straight again. It was said that a blind man’s vision had suddenly returned to him during one of Sugata’s sermons.”

The possibility of actual enlightenment spurs both the Buddha’s allies and enemies to action. “Enlightenment” throughout conflates Buddhist awakening and the Age of Reason. When one man awakens, the whole world is awake. The Buddha’s ability to understand and outwit the gods offers the only hope of defeating them, but in the process, instead of toppling religion and ending it, he creates a new one. 

Roger Zelazny referred to himself as a lapsed Catholic and a man without a religion, but the topic reverberates through his works, including his ten-volume magnum opus, The Chronicles of Amber. All the religions appear in Lord of Light, if only briefly. A secret Christian, the chaplain of the original spaceship, inhabits the form of the Hindu death god/dess Nirriti, and fights against both the Buddha and the gods. Though the Buddha doesn’t ask it, his followers erect new temples and paint murals depicting his deeds. The ubiquity of gods and temples suggests that even in a time and place where science has solved the problem of mortality (if not morality), religion is an inescapable part of human activity, despite its outward forms being imperfect or corrupt.

The post Maitreya in Outer Space appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Jeff Watt, director of the website and virtual museum Himalayan Art Resources (HAR) and founding curator of the Rubin Museum of Art, is better known for explaining paintings and sculptures rather than books. But in a new video series launched in October, Watt is starting to review books on art of the Himalayas and Tibet from a library that numbers in the hundreds (if not thousands). These videos may be of particular interest to students of this art, but also offer enough of an overview to engage the general public and dharma community. The video that introduces the series is below. 

Watt, one of the world’s leading scholars of Himalayan art, acquired his prodigious knowledge of Buddhist, Bon, and Hindu iconography from a longtime study of Buddhism and tantra. As a teenager, he studied with Dezhung Rinpoche in Seattle, Wash., and Sakya Trizin in Dehradun, India. He dropped out of school at 17 to take monastic vows from the 16th Gyalwa Karmapa in 1974. For the next eleven years, Watt trained intensively in India, Canada, and the U.S., with teachers such as Dudjom Rinpoche, Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, Kalu Rinpoche, and Sakya Jetsun Chimey. In 1985 he returned to lay life but continued to study and to translate sacred Tibetan and Sanskrit texts, along with completing numerous traditional retreats over years of periodic isolated practice, much of it in the rugged mountains of British Columbia, Canada.

Watt divides the books that the new video series will review into three main categories:

1. Art History
2. Iconography 
3. Religious context

Art history books may be general or specific and describe the styles of art, the regions from which they come, the periods in which they were created, and the medium in which the artist or artists worked. Works of art history may be organized around any of these factors, or they may describe the works of specific sites or collections. They may also explain changes in artistic traditions over time.

Books discussing iconography describe the images and symbols in Himalayan art. They may explore the source literature behind pieces of art, as Watt did for the bhavacakra or wheel of existence, in a recent Tricycle article. Texts on iconography are descriptive, and detail how a figure appears in art. They also deal with the symbolic meanings in the art, and the relevant lineages of teachers related to that tradition.

The third class of books deals with religious context. These publications discuss the religious significance of works of art. They will explore the meanings of works, and how it might be employed in a ritual. They also discuss the origins of the artwork, such as what tradition it emerged from, and what it means to practitioners of that lineage. These works also deal with orthodoxy, what is deemed correct or incorrect in these works. 

Watt sees the project as one of making texts accessible, as well as preserving knowledge of them. And despite HAR being a digital gallery, Watt feels that physical books are important, particularly in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. “The importance of books,” he said, “and the importance of categorizing books, putting them in different boxes, or under different umbrellas, and organizing them: that’s one of the secrets of Tibetan Buddhism. And why it is so interesting is because of their tremendous facility and understanding of literature and books, and how to use literature.”

Digital books may provide the bare information, but there is a lack of reverence, Watt said. “You’re not protecting it, you have no responsibilities toward it,” he said. “We’ve been playing with the idea of trying to do something with books on HAR for over ten years. But trying to preserve the tradition of publications, now through video. That’s the idea.” He added, “Without doing videos and talking about some of these publications, then they may be lost forever.”

The series is new but growing. Other videos in the series deal with the art of the Bon tradition, depictions of the legendary monarch Gesar of Ling, guardian deities, oracles and demons, and much more.  

The post New Video Series to Explore Himalayan Art appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Padmasambhava, also known as Guru Rinpoche (“Precious Guru”), has been revered for centuries in the Himalayan regions as the second Buddha. Based on research into ancient Buddhist manuscripts, the documentary film Precious Guru: Journey into the Wild Heart of the Second Buddha traces the spiritual life and legacy of this eighth-century tantric master—and relates some of the wild adventures he is said to have gone on. The film features the voices of contemporary teachers and practitioners, including Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche, Lama Tsultrim Allione, and Robert Thurman.

This film will be available to stream until 11:59 p.m. ET on Friday, December 2, 2022, and will be featured in an event at Tibet House in New York City on December 10. Tricycle subscribers can watch the film here.

The following is a brief interview with director Marc Wennberg, lightly edited for clarity.

What inspired you to make the film Precious Guru? I did not set out to make a film. I began this project because Guru Rinpoche’s story kept surfacing in my life and travels and I wanted to know more. What began as a personal exploration became an idea for a multimedia project that became a production trip and finally, a film. It was only time that helped clarify the central work of the documentary. Precious Guru is my expression of gratitude for this journey: for the surface, depths, and beauty of Guru Rinpoche’s story; and for the Himalayan storytellers who keep this story alive and present.

It seems you did a great deal of traveling in making this film. What was the greatest challenge you faced? We traveled more than 16,000 miles in eight weeks. We began our production trip in Mongolia and then traveled to Nepal, Tibet, Bhutan, and finally India. The constant travel was a physical, mental, and emotional challenge. Our production team—comprised of eight very talented and strong-minded individuals—struggled to find cohesiveness of vision. And then you add in the challenges that come at high altitudes! That said, in many ways, our eight-week whirlwind was incredible and successful. We met remarkable people to interview at the right times, we visited and filmed in stunningly beautiful places, our equipment worked flawlessly, and we returned home with all of our limbs! In hindsight, I like to say that ‘I wouldn’t change a thing about this first film experience, and if given the opportunity to do another project, I would change how I do everything.’

What was the reaction of ordinary Tibetans when you asked to speak to them about Padmasambhava? If nothing else, I hope our film captures the deep devotion that Tibetans have for their Precious Guru. Padmasambhava is omnipresent throughout the Himalaya, in both landscapes and people’s practices and prayers. The Himalayan people are the true keepers of this story and it is their devotion that has preserved and given life to this wise story.  Recognizing this, it felt very important to center the Himalayan people as the storytellers of Precious Guru, and we attempted to do this throughout the film.

For whom was this film made and what is your hope that it will accomplish? First and foremost, may our film benefit many, many beings, and may it bring joy and wonder. 

I also hope that our film adds to the growing awareness of the Guru Rinpoche story and the inherent wisdom that lies at the heart of this story. The tagline for our film is: the most extraordinary and least well-known story in the great religions reveals a radically relevant truth: the darker the times, the greater the opportunity for transformation. There is a lot to be discovered in Guru Rinpoche’s story that is particularly well-attuned to our times.

And finally, I hope the film serves as a lasting expression of gratitude for the Himalayan people who have nurtured, protected, and generously shared this remarkable and profound story with the world. 

How did you choose the music for the film? Ah, the question that is most frequently asked at screenings! I came across Peter Rowan’s musical homage to Padmasambhava, “Across the Rolling Hills,” prior to our production trip. The song has energy and, in many ways, it captured the pace of our movement across the Himalayas. Once we settled on this foundational piece, which happened during editing, I mined Peter for additional music, including his collaboration with Tibetan vocalist Yungchen Lhamo, the group Mandolin Orange, and Cindy Cashdollar. 

I also think the bluegrass music serves as a cultural bridge between an Eastern story and a mostly Western audience. As Peter has said, bluegrass is mountain music and it connects to that experience. And finally, the music is a little unexpected, which I also like!

Tricycle subscribers can watch Precious Guru here. Visit the film’s website here.

The post Inside ‘Precious Guru,’ a Film About the Spiritual Life and Legacy of Padmasambhava appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Thomas Cleary, the prolific translator of Buddhist and Asian texts, died on June 20, 2021. His translations from Sanskrit, Pali, Chinese, Japanese, and more have contributed greatly to the understanding of Asian classics by English readers. Cleary’s first major work, produced with his brother J.C. Cleary, was the koan collection The Blue Cliff Record, reviewed in Tricycle in 1992. He is also known for his monumental translation of the Avatamsaka Sutra, also known as The Flower Ornament Sutra. Robert Thurman reviewed this for Tricycle in 1994. His review begins:

There is no doubt in my mind that Thomas Cleary is the greatest translator of Buddhist texts from Chinese or Japanese into English of our generation, and that he will be so known by grateful Buddhist practitioners and scholars in future centuries. Single-handedly he has gone a long way toward building the beginnings of a Buddhist canon in English.

Many of his works were published by Shambhala Publications, whose president Nikko Odiseos published this remembrance.

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