Beginning an Adventure: A Tibetan New Year of Auspicious Signs
From the Rubin Museum, two artworks are highlighted. "Sixteen Arhats Group Portrait: Layman Dharma Dorje" (late 16th century) contains a detail in which an antelope signifies supreme spiritual practice. The other piece, "The Eighteenth Karmapa's Inner Visualization of the Pure Land of Mother Prajnaparamita" (mid-19th century), shows yellow ducks in a lake that stand for the transmission of purity.
With reverence, I offer this clean and delightful electric lamp to all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. It glows as brightly as the sun and moon, dispelling darkness, and carries no scent of burning or smoke.
In the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, a 1922 painting by Ernest Ramsden—titled "Statues in the Main Temple and Local Worshipers"—is held in a Western Himalayan collection. The excerpt originates from "Prayer of the Electric Offering Lamp" (གློག་སྒྲོན་སྨོན་ཚིག་བཞུགས།), composed by the Sixth Gongtang Danbe Wangdu (འཇིགས་མེད་བསྟན་པའི་དབང་ཕྱུག་; 1926-2000). Meeting the new evokes nostalgia, and after reflecting, one's longing to have their voice persist within the new world intensifies.
Time cannot be resisted, yet it always offers unexpected rewards. The psychology of human beings arises from a particular delight and a strange fear of the boundary between the old and the new. Even the wise living in monasteries are unable to disregard the perfect correspondence between tradition and the present age, where a subtle balance exists between what is perceived as change and the ceaseless freeing of the spirit.
Within Labrang Monastery, a debate was underway between those who supported traditional offerings and those who backed electric offerings. The supporters of traditional offerings trace their practice to the light-offering festival held after Tsongkhapa's parinirvana, and even earlier to Atisha and the Buddha. In their eyes, only smoky butter lamps can truly resonate with a particular time and the emotions tied to it. Before composing the "Prayer for Electric Offerings," the 6th Gongtang appears to have been aware of this discussion.
Scholars frequently employ the rather oversimplified labels "traditionalists" and "reformists" when defining these two groups. For the 6th Gongtang, however, the old and the new are not set against each other. Indeed, among the monks and laity who back electric offerings, the manifestation of light extends beyond traditional paradigms, as electricity—a symbol of progress—can serve as a vehicle for the light of wisdom.
We must confront the age in which we live. The dismissal of dualism can be found in classical antiquity, in numerous monumental works and in every debate that continues to influence our thought. "Riding the boat of tradition through the changing times, the pursuit of wisdom and liberation is the unchanging theme of this adventure.
In the Rubin Museum collection, a mid-19th-century work bears the title "Pure Land of Amitabha Buddha: Paradise Realm," and one detail depicts an Offering Goddess in the Pure Land's empty space. Self-understanding has become ever more challenging in the information age, causing the "great traditions" to become unstable as well. Typically, when people are asked what brought this about, the blame falls on vague external forces.
Because people reject unified structure and are drawn to individual expression, they engage with discussions of heritage and memories of the past in a detached way. We ask ourselves, "What knowledge and experience will I retain when I leave this world?" or "Will my emotions and experiences remain intact?"—and in doing so, we merely learn to exhaust our limited energy through endless self-questioning.
In the Ruben Museum collection, a 19th-century piece titled "Eight Transformations of Lotus Born: Master Aihui Lian" features details such as the Sangye Qingpu Grottoes and a vulture representing extinction. In the end, the essence of the ultimate issue becomes weakened, and what endures in daily life are recollections of "smoky buttery smells" and the persistent illusion that "such change is progress".
སྟོང་གསལ་ཆོས་དབྱིངས་མཁའ་ལས་བྱུང་པ་ཡི། དྭངས་གསལ་མ་འདྲེས་ཡེ་ཤེས་འོད་འབར་བ། ཏིང་འཛིན་འཕྲུལ་གྱིས་བཀུག་པའི་གློག་འོད་འདིས། མ་རིག་འཁོར་བའི་རྩ་བ་གཞོམ་གྱུར་ཅིག། Born in the realm of empty clarity Bright wisdom light not shared Drawing the mysterious power of lightning Ending samsara by dispelling ignorance Excerpt from "Prayer of the Electric Offering Lamp"（གློག་སྒྲོན་སྨོན་ཚིག་བཞུགས།） Written by the Sixth Gongtang Danbe Wangdu (འཇིགས་མེད་བསྟན་པའི་དབང་ཕྱུག་；1926-2000) "Pagoda Group at the Foot of the Snow Mountain" Painted by Ernest Ramstead, 1922 Collection of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts Located in western Tibet There is ample evidence to suggest that after composing the "Prayer for the Electric Lamp Offering," the 6th Gongtang Rinpoche did not try to conceal his love for traditional lamp offerings.
Zewa Zhabarxiarao (ཟེའུ་གྲགས་པ་ཤེས་རབ་；1259-1325), the 11th abbot of Natang Monastery (སྣར་ཐང་), died seven hundred years ago. History seems to offer many precedents for this kind of stance. In fact, the material differences between new and old lamp offerings did not weaken his devotion to wisdom itself, and he remarked that "changes will not alter our beliefs; external factors are just different ways of asking questions, whether new or old.
Zhabarxiarao's disciples, according to certain biographical accounts of the Natang lineage, engaged in disputes about the identity of a sage who had occupied a stone throne close to the monastery. His response was to remain mostly silent throughout the day; then, during the night, he dismantled the throne and reconstructed it as a small stupa. On the next day, after gathering the monks of Natang Monastery in front of the stupa, he explained that the matter of who had previously owned the throne no longer held importance, for this was a new beginning.
If the debate stemmed from reverence, the stupa in front of them could belong to both sages, or to the Buddha and Bodhisattvas alike. That is to say, what shifts while circumstances shift, and what stays fixed. The idea of "old and new"—or, more precisely, what is present and what is yet to come—is the twist fate hands us. No system is inviolable, even when tied to recollections of the past or charged with the hope of advancement. Only what is inherently flawless remains unaltered.
Due to this nature, we are no longer easily swayed by the authority of history, the gaze of the crowd, or even time itself. Even if our knowledge and experiences do not outlast the world, and our emotions and experiences are overlooked, we continue to live for ourselves, guided by wisdom. Though not everyone may accept this inherently good yet forcefully transformative attitude toward life, it prevents us from falling into confusion over the "good or bad" of lamps or the ownership of a Dharma seat.
In the eternal journey, external forces fail to disturb our nature, while inner hindrances do not cause it to expand. "Longevity Vase Base Jewelry Silver Butter Lamp" Mid-19th century, private collection 2025, Happy New Year! This article is translated from Sorang Wangqing's blog.