About the Author
Erik Pema Kunsang

Erik Pema Kunsang

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Translator of ancient Buddhist scriptures, author, bridge-builder to modern life, Buddhist teacher & meditation instructor. Board of director at 84000: Translating the Words of the Buddha. Founder of Rangjung Yeshe Publications and LEVEKUNST art of life. Other LEVEKUNST articles by the same author. Erik's website & retreats.

Articles by same author

A POEM TO THE GURU
A POEM TO THE GURU
This poem is written by the contemporary Tibetan poet Sangdor and is part of a forthcoming book of his poetry in English translation. Sangdor was born in the Lake Regions of Amdo and recognized as a highly revered reincarnated master. However, in his 20's announced that he was not actually this master nor was he a monk any longer and thereby returned his robes.
LIVING LITERATURE: THE ART OF THE PUJA
LIVING LITERATURE: THE ART OF THE PUJA
Lowell Cook, poet and author based in Nepal writes on how it is to be part of a major transmission of knowledge in the Vajrayana tradition. It was a unique and historic event with Dharma students gathering from all corners of the world to receive the empowerments.
THE LINGUISTIC MYSTICS OF TIBET
THE LINGUISTIC MYSTICS OF TIBET
Misapprehension of language only perpetuates our confused, dualistic perception of reality and thereby leads us away from the realization the single taste of reality. Contrary to this, when language is infused with skillful means, it becomes a vehicle for liberation.
GIFTS FROM SACRED SMOKE
GIFTS FROM SACRED SMOKE
“How real are the deities? Well… How real is your suffering?” This deserves to be contemplated. Until we realize the emptiness of all experience, appearances, and phenomena, whether they be positive or negative, we have to play by their rules, the rules of the conventional world.
REFLECTIONS ON A DAILY RITUAL
REFLECTIONS ON A DAILY RITUAL
I found myself among endless lines of crystal urinals and polished sinks, utterly alone. Or at least something close to it, if you remove the senior citizen janitor’s presence. I unwrapped a small, bleach-white sliver of soap, compliments of last night’s lodging.
THE 4TH OF JULY
THE 4TH OF JULY
it’s july. and i can see my breath. i look out from the window where across a puddle of mud ...

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