In about 1998, I recall seeing a small printed image of Green Tara on the cover of the morning puja prayer sheets at Marpa House. Green Tara was depicted in the traditional style, with black lines printed on a white background. I was a relative newcomer to Marpa House at that time, and having begun to practice Green Tara, I was having some difficulty in visualising her. To get to know Green Tara better, I decided to make a woodcut print of her.

I soon realised that the traditional Tibetan block cutting method was very different from my own. In making a black and white woodcut print, I was accustomed to cutting out just the outlines of figures and objects so that the resulting printed image was composed of white lines on a black background. I was intrigued by the contrasting Tibetan process, where much of the surface of the wood block is cut away, leaving only the outlines of forms and figures in high relief, producing a black line print on a white background. I decided to try this Tibetan approach.

I enlarged the small Green Tara print on the puja prayers and transferred a carbon copy of the design onto a piece of plywood. Then I cut away all the surface wood of the background, leaving the linear form of Green Tara raised. Finally, I rolled black ink over the raised lines and made several prints from the block on my Western printing press.

I have thought long and hard about this beautiful image of Green Tara and what her linear form on a white sheet of paper means for me. Perhaps in the past, I had focused on the print, unaware of the equal value of the space essential for her creation. I began to see that the spaces between the lines are as important as the lines themselves. You cannot have one without the other!

Through the Tibetan wood cutting method, Green Tara appears in the finest filigree of interwoven lines that simply describe her essential qualities without embellishment of unnecessary form. Here is her spirit of lightness, her reassurance and ready support in a troubled world.

Rinpoche once said that Tibetan paper is the best in the world. I used Nepalese paper for Green Tara, a paper which is a pretty good ‘second best’. Unlike machine-made papers, which are easy to tear because the fibres flow uniformly in one direction, this paper is made of natural vegetable fibres crushed and strewn in all directions…a bit like the spread of Buddhism! You cannot tear Tibetan or Nepalese paper without applying a lot of pressure. Unlike machine-made papers, it does not rot. In short, it is very strong and reliable. This paper upon which sits eternal Green Tara, has a long and beautiful life.

Ann Westley  © 2025

The history of our building and grounds before they became Marpa House

Marpa House/Kham Tibetan House has a fascinating history, long before its current incarnation as the first Tibetan Buddhist Retreat centre in England.

Rinpoche was assisted in its initial founding and search for a suitable property by several kind students before what was then called ‘All Saints’ Home’ emerged as a potential location for Rinpoche’s centre.

The property was built in 1890 and has a very positive history, both in the building and the gardens, as ‘All Saints’ Home’ was a refuge for homeless children (mainly from London) for 83 years, from its inception by Dr Henry Swete. In fact, ‘Rectory Lane’ is still known by some locals as ‘Home Boys Lane’.

In the late nineteenth century, Dr Henry Swete, as the Lord of Ashdon Rectory Manor, was a very influential figure. He decided to provide a thatched cottage rent-free to the ‘Church of England Society for Providing Homes for Waifs and Strays’. At that time, many orphans were surviving on the streets in the big cities of England, notably in London.

Dr Swete paid half the cost of furnishing that cottage (now a private home). In 1885, the first group of boys arrived from London.  At first, there were six children; then, three more followed quickly to fill the house. Each boy had a mall garden and attended the village school.

The original cottage, however, was in poor condition; so Dr Swete soon decided to build a new house for 12 children close to his Rectory and on land rented from Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge. The new Home was opened on St Michael and All Angels’ Day in 1890 (29th September). After a service at the parish church, the clergy and congregation formed a procession led by a cross-bearer. They made their way to the Home, where Swete conducted a Benediction Service (a type of blessing).

A local committee ran All Saints’ Home, and one of the most prominent early members of the committee was Mrs Brocklebank of Bartlow Hall. Bartlow is a village close by.

The first matron was Annie Wallis; her successor was Ellen Whitehead, who became matron in 1895 and remained in the position for 37 years, playing a significant part in the home’s history.

Problems with the water supply meant that the Home depended upon a nearby well. When this ran dry, water had to be carried up the steep hill from the village. This continued for 48 years, until a mains supply was eventually installed in 1938, the same year that the house was extended to accommodate more boys. The Home closed in 1961 for renovations and didn’t reopen until 1964. It finally closed in 1972.

From its dedication in 1890 until 1972, the house served as a refuge for boys aged 8 to 13. They came from diverse cultural backgrounds, and a few of the former residents have returned to revisit the house and grounds.

Further visits by original residents are welcome by appointment. Please get in touch with the Secretary at mail@marpahouse.org.uk

Emptiness is such a key word in Buddhist teachings (especially in the Heart Sutra, [“form is empty, yet emptiness has no form”]) and yet, so often when it is mentioned we are also told that it is not void at all but has very important positive aspects. How can we understand that?

To me, the key point seems to be that there is something beyond the phenomena we can perceive with our ordinary sense perceptions, and that – when we settle our mind in stillness – we have the chance of being aware of something quite wonderful, something that is very uplifting but also very difficult to describe with the words we have at our disposal. It is not surprising therefore that quite a number of different terms are used in this context; “unborn clear light”, “luminosity”, “primordial essence”, “innate supreme essence”, “vivid awareness” and “Buddha-nature” all seem to point in the same direction.

So why is it called “emptiness”? Nagarjuna (c. 200 CE) is credited with transforming the sutras’ poetic and sometimes paradoxical declarations on emptiness (“form is emptiness and emptiness is form”) into a philosophical system.

When he uses the word “emptiness” it is not to refer to the absence of existence but to the absence of intrinsic existence and, by implication, to the true or ultimate nature of reality. He stated this primarily to refute the idea – especially held by followers of the Sarvastivada School – that phenomena, the things we can perceive with our ordinary senses, have an intrinsic existence.

This was further amplified by Vasubandhu (around 400 CE), of the Yogachara school, who equated Buddha-nature with both emptiness and nirvana.

There are also some fascinating references to the ultimate nature of reality in the Upanishads, which I find very uplifting. (The terms used here are: the Spirit, the Essence, the Truth, God and – in the personified form – Brahman).

As Buddhists we may shy away from reading these Hindu scriptures, but it is worth remembering that these writings contain the distilled wisdom of thousands of years and essentially reflect the cultural/spiritual background the Buddha was born into. The Svetasvatara Upanishad in particular was written down about the time of the Buddha and contains some striking parallels to the Heart Sutra (“When ignorance is dispelled, there is neither day nor night, neither being nor non-being.”).

Here is a very short excerpt: “The Essence is in everything, from the smallest to the largest. The Spirit’s infinity is beyond what is great or small and its radiance illumines all creation. It is beyond form and beyond pain, and those who have seen the Truth of the Spirit are one with it, their life is fulfilled, and they are ever beyond sorrow.” (Quoted from a translation by Juan Mascaró, 1965).

Hartwin Busch © 2024