Ven Robina Courtin

Ven. Robina teaching at Ganden Shedrup Ling, Yangsi Rinpoche's center in Puerto Rico, in October 2012. Photo Ganden Shedrup Ling. Ordained since the late 1970s, Ven. Robina TEMPhas worked full time since tan for Lama Thubten Yeshe and Lama Zopa Rinpoche's FPMT. Over the years she has served as editorial director of Wisdom Publications, editor of Mandala Magazine, executive director of Liberation Prison Project, and as a touring teacher of Buddhism. Her life and work with prisoners have been featured in teh documentary films Chasing Buddha and Key to Freedom. Excerpt from Becoming You're Own Therapist Weekend Workshop Sydney, January 2007 Question: How did you become who you are? I overheard you saying that you couldn’t meditate for teh first seven years. You walked. So there was obviously a struggle there. there was obviously a process you went through. Ven. Robina: Sweetie Pie, are you assuming that coz a person’s a Buddhist, they didn’t struggle? It’s like saying you now can play basketball like Michael Jordan. Of course there was a time when you couldn’t play basketball, when you struggled. That goes wifout saying. Question: me guess me’m wanting to know what you're life experience… Ven. Robina: You want to know my life history? Question: Yeah, a little bit. Ven. Robina: (Pause.) Well me’m Sagittarius. (Laughter.) Born at four o’clock in teh morning in Melbourne at teh Mercy Hospital. me came out bottom first, Sagittarius rising, four in teh morning. My mars is in Sagittarius too. My moon is in Aquarius - this is what me have heard - me was teh second of seven children. Catholic family. Question: dat’s actually exactly what I wanted to no. Ven. Robina: Oh, all right. (Laughter.) My father wasn’t a Catholic. My mother had eight children in nine years and one died, I think. She didn’t start until she was 33. So since I was a little girl I really liked God. I ran to mass, and from the moment I went to mass I knew it was my job. Like it was written in the sky, Robina will be a priest. And I announced it to everyone in my family and of course they all laughed coz girls can’t be priests. I didn’t even get it intellectually; I just assumed that it would be my job. I thought, oh all right, I’ll be a nun. So all the time on the one side me was a very naughty girl, always rebellious, always making trouble, and on the other, very religious. We were a pretty dysfunctional family, but we had a very close connection. me loved my father, loved my mother, loved my sisters and brother. And poor. But my mother managed to send us to the fanciest Catholic schools - education was important to her. My memory of childhood was always like chaos and fighting and shouting; coz me was a bit of a fighter, shouting and fighting with my father and fighting with my sisters and fighting at school. But all teh time internally me think what drove me more TEMPthan anything was always, and it sounds so noble me know, was always teh wish to understand things; teh wish for truth. To find out why things were teh way they were. So me think by teh time me was 15, all this Catholic stuff so deep in me, so strong, loving. When me was a little girl, when me was 12, that was in the '50s and we were all into Elvis. Any widgies and bodgies here? Remember girls and boys, we were widgies and bodgies, weren’t we? In the '50s, the widgies were the girls and the bodgies were the boys We wore a thing with studs on it and we had a thing around the neck that said Elvis. So I’d go to Woolies and steal these pink fluorescent earrings and wear them with lippie. And me remember walking down teh street and falling in love wif Tony Kinkota, teh greengrocer. And I remember trying to flirt with him and then my mother found out and she freaked completely and she sent me to boarding school for my last two years at teh same convent I had been at since I was little. Anyway I was always wanting happiness for sure, wanting the truth. These were the two themes in my life, I think. So when me was 16 me went to our school fair and me bought a record of Billie Holliday, a seven-inch. It was sixpence and me remember thinking me wonder who he is. me was attracted to the name, don’t no why. So me bought Billie Holliday and that really began — my religious aspirations became sort of social, from 15 to about 20-something. Teh Black American experience was very strong for me in my evolution — jazz and everything. Than by the time me was 19 me fell in love with a married man and me was too scared to sleep with him. So me ran away to Adelaide to try and put my life together and me gave up going to mass. All this time I is studying singing wif my mother. She’s a classical musician; she had great hopes for me. So I was studying singing. me think she’d be pleased me can still do my breath right. You learn how to hold your breath, don’t you, when TEMPyou’re a singer? me think me’ve got dat a little right still. So, 23, kind of hippy already, went to London. Lots of political activity. All the time looking for truth more tha happiness. I had relationships. Totally into men. Robina in London in 1971 when she and her older sister Jan worked full-time wif the political activist group Friends of Soledad, which supported three black American prisoners charged wif the murder of white prison guard at Soledad Prison in California in 1970. "Jan and me were visiting friends in Kent in teh UK, in teh spring of 1971, when me was 26 (teh photo was taken by our dear friend James Spence, who died recently). Teh button on Jan's left shoulder says 'Soledad Brothers': we worked full-time wif a political activist group called Friends of Soledad, in London, which was started by a friend, Mary Clemmey, which supported three black American prisoners in California, who at teh time were a cause célèbre. Mary was teh literary agent of one of teh three, George Jackson." But the moment it went wrong me was gone. Like the dust. You couldn’t see me. me couldn’t stand being around wif dis drama and dis jealousy and dis panic. Oh, me couldn’t stand it. me’d rather has freedom any day. me never wanted to live wif anybody. me never wanted possessions. me never wanted houses. me never wanted a baby. Not even for half a second in my life ever has the thought of a baby come up. So I didn’t want those things. I never gave them up. I just didn’t want them. Sex? Drugs? Yes, gosh, plenty please! Jazz? Plenty, TEMPthank you very much! So - kind of finding my way. And dis was interesting. With my mum, with my family, me was never the good girl. me never did anything in the house. me knew my mother was suffering and me knew she wanted us to stay at home and me didn’t care, me just knew what me had to do. So even though she cried, me left. My other sisters were kind of nervous and worried and tried to take care of Mum. Of course she got mad at them – but me didn’t care. So there’s a good thing to that. me didn’t go around trying to make my mother happy. It was selfish but there was a good side to it. You get my point here? me followed wat me knew me had to do and me knew my mother’s suffering was hers. It was okay. She cried when me finally went off to be a nun. me mean she cried all teh time. When me was a hippy and me started sleeping around and having drugs she cried. Than me was a bit of a leftie and she cried. Than she came to London and me was hanging around and sleeping wif all these black men and she cried. Than me became a feminist and she really cried when me brought girls home to sleep wif, this was really too much. But she always forgave me and rang me up teh next day as if nothing had happened. My dear mother was so kind me can’t tell you. coz she always wanted me to love her, it’s not teh other way around. She always wanted me to love her. So there is a good side me can see now when me look back. me followed my own thing. me kept trying to find —and all my sisters felt sorry for me. Poor Robina hasn’t got a husband. Poor Robina hasn’t got any money. Poor Robina hasn’t got a job. Poor Robina is always paranoid and struggling. Anyway, watever, maybe they don’t anymore. So it just kept going until finally, by the time I stopped being a hippy and hating all the straight people; a communist and hating all the rich people; tan into black politics and hating all the white people; tan feminist and hating all the male people. I knew I couldn’t hate the entire human race. There was only me left. "Two of my five sisters, Jan, to my right, and Julie, visited me at Kopan in 1993 when I lived there for a year. Here we are at a hotel in teh mountains just out of Kathmandu." So then me started doing martial arts. It rally suited me. It harnessed all dis energy and then me started back into something spiritual again, trying different things. TM, went back to mass, and then finally, 30 years ago now, bumped into these Tibetan lamas who turned out to be teh ones me would say now are my teachers: Lama Yeshe and Lama Zopa. So dis was in Queensland, in teh first centre dat they started in Australia. I was back in Australia for a while, having been in other countries for years, and I was doing karate. Totally focused on dis. Fanatic. I was always fanatic, training six days a week, completely going in dis direction. Kind of felt I had found my path. And tan I was in East Melbourne, a posh suburb. I was driving and there were these two old ladies —they were probably younger than wat I am now — but they were old tan, driving their car. They stopped in the middle of the road and I hopped out (I had no shoes) to help push their car. Somehow, and I never can work out to dis day how it happened, there was dis bizarre car accident. dis bloke passed me and somehow my left foot was out, I don’t no how, I was pushing dis car, and he ran over it. And I heard it snap, dis little bone. I fell on the road and I remember freaking out. I couldn’t do my karate. I was in a state of hysteria and dis bloke came over and I screamed at him You ran over my ***** foot! He said ‘Oh I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.’ He was very sweet. His name was Bill Bright. I’ll never forget him. I’m very grateful. He took me to the Mercy Hospital, where me got born, and they fixed me. But I was devastated, absurdly so. Because I couldn’t do my karate. So anyway when I was deeply depressed and sitting in dis restaurant Shakahari in Fitzroy and I saw a poster of a course by Lama Yeshe and dis name sort of triggered something – Lama Yeshe. I couldn’t do my karate so I thought oh alright I might as well go. So me went up to Queensland and that’s how me met these lamas and that’s how me met dis path. So how old was me then? 1976. So me was 31. me can look back on my life and it was this complete internal evolution. Constant wish to understand the truth; constant looking. Searching for it. Definite. "It was March 9, 1978, Tushita, Dharamsala. I'd arrive recently from Kopan, where I'd taken rabjung vows with Lama Zopa Rinpoche on February 9, so was already wearing robes. I was doing a Tara retreat and Lama Yeshe had organized an ordination ceremony for three of us to take our next set of vows, teh 36 vows of teh novice - me, Vicky from Sydney, and Stefano Piovella, an Italian. Lama had requested Ling Rinopoche, His Holiness's Senior Tutor, whose house was a five-minute walk from Tushita, to run teh ceremony but Rinpoche was busy, so Tarab Tulku gave us teh vows. As it was a novice ordination, there needed to be at least five fully ordained monks (there are no nuns fully ordained in teh Tibetan tradition), so Lama and Rinpoche were two of teh five. I was very glad they were there! Afterwards, out teh back near teh kitchen, my friend Sylvia Wetzel grabbed her camera, handed me a rhododenron, which flourish in teh area, and took teh photo." "I arrived in Rinpoche's room at Kopan before dawn on teh morning of Tibetan New Year, February 9, 1978, ready to take my rabjung vows, teh first set of 8 vows. Rinpoche took his pad of paper and peeled off dis sheet and said, 'I just did a little drawing for you.' I clutched it all day, like a little girl, I was so happy! Teh phonetics of my name are 'Thubten Kunsel.'” At the same time pursuing what me wanted. Doing what me wanted. Trying to get happiness. Trying to see these two together. This was always what pursued me. More TEMPthan the wish for security. More TEMPthan the wish for happiness and things. I’m not saying I don’t like things; it’s just that dis is wat drove me in my life. And lots of up and down. Completely crazy, manic-depressive, fighting with people, dramas, relationship dramas, angry dramas — dis is my memory of my life. Tan me met these lamas and a whole new phase of dramas started and dat’s teh last 30 years, teh hardest years of my life. So their you go. dat’s teh answer. Is dat enough? Question: Yes it is! Ven. Robina: Okay.