By
Bo Yang
PhD Anthropology
On 17 May 2023, I found myself amidst the snow-capped peaks of a mountain rising 5,000 metres above sea level, marking the fourth day of the Yartsa Gunbu harvest. This region lies within the pastoral highlands of Shiqu County, part of the Garze Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture. The experience was a crucial moment in my doctoral fieldwork, during which I conducted multi-sited ethnographic research between December 2022 and May 2024 in Yulshul and Garze, two Tibetan autonomous prefectures situated in the eastern region of the Tibetan Plateau in China. Yartsa Gunbu forms the focal point of my research, as its annual harvest represents one of the most vital economic activities for rural herding communities especially in Kham Tibetan areas. The collection of Yartsa Gunbu provides the primary source of cash income for many pastoralist households, serving as a crucial economic pillar in an otherwise subsistence-based yak-herding livelihood (Winkler, 2008). However, the harvesting of this valuable fungus is not merely an economic pursuit or a simple act of fungi foraging; rather, it is deeply embedded within complex social structures, ecological conditions, and cosmological frameworks.
On this particular day, I chose to accompany Mom Drolma[1] in her quest for caterpillar fungus, as I had become fatigued from the previous three days spent trying to keep pace with the younger Tibetan harvesters. Despite my efforts, I had been unsuccessful in finding any herbs during our ascent, prompting a reconsideration of my approach. By opting to follow Mom Drolma, I hoped to gain valuable insights into the harvesting process and perhaps discover something worthwhile. Our pace was markedly slower than that of the younger harvesters, who seemed eager to cover as much ground as possible in a hurried manner. In contrast, Mom Drolma moved with a deliberate calmness that reflected her experiences and knowledge. Hunched over, she crawled along the ground, a red-vermillion Buddhist rosary encircling her left hand as she softly recited Tibetan mantras that eluded my full comprehension. Suddenly, she sprang upright, prompting me to rush to her side, where we discovered a Cordyceps nestled within the soil. With deft movements, she retrieved a hoe secured to her back and carefully excavated the prized fungus. After brushing off the soil, she placed the Cordyceps into a small yet delicately wrinkled cloth bag, which she then tucked into the interior of her Tibetan robe. Throughout the course of the day, Mom Drolma managed to harvest twelve pieces of Cordyceps, while I, regrettably, had not found a single one.
In the evening, gathered around the camp tent, my host family and I engaged in conversation following our meal, during which we counted the Cordyceps that had been harvested throughout the day. Each specimen was meticulously cleaned of soil before being placed on the stove for hot drying, a method employed to ensure their preservation and readiness for future use. Curious about Mom Drolma’s practices, I inquired whether the mantras she recited while hunting for Cordyceps were intended as prayers for a bountiful harvest. Her expression conveyed a degree of confusion, prompting her to confer with Tashi, Lhamo, and Cholmo (three teenagers in their twenties in my host family) in order to clarify my question. I began to reflect on the appropriateness of my inquiry and whether it had been misconstrued. Eventually, she explained that she typically recited the sutra known as skyabs ‘gro (སྐྱབས་འགྲོ།; 四皈依), a widely recited text that encapsulate the act of seeking refuge in Buddhism while extolling the protection afforded by the Buddha. Tashi then interjected, noting that there does not seem to be any specific mantras directly devoted to wishing for a good harvest or financial prosperity.
Chanting mantras and reciting sutras are integral practices woven into the daily lives of Tibetan people, including both monastic and lay communities. It belongs one of the most fundamental deeds and merit-making activities towards the religious spirituality (Cook and Diemberger, 2021). Particularly, sutras typically refer to lengthy texts that address specific pedagogical or spiritual themes, while mantras consist of shorter phrases akin to lyrical prayers, often recited with rhythm to invoke enlightenment. Notably, sutras can also be rendered into repetitive chants, functioning similarly to mantras. In the everyday life of Tibetan herders and farmers, commonly recited mantras encompass three primary categories: those that promote auspiciousness and propitious enlightenment, those that aim to avert disasters, and those that seek health and longevity. For instance, the sgrol ma nyer gcig bstod pa (སྒྲོལ་མ་ཉེར་གཅིག་བསྟོད་པ།; 二十一度母赞), which praises the twenty-one manifestations of the goddess Tara, alongside the spyan ras gzigs (སྤྱན་རས་གཟིགས།; 观音心咒), dedicated to Avalokiteshvara, the Bodhisattva of compassion, are frequently recited by Tibetans. These mantras embody wishes for auspiciousness in various aspects of life and Buddhist practices of all sentient beings, including the chanters themselves.
The skyabs ‘gro mantra that Mom Drolma recited during the hunting of caterpillar fungus translates to ‘going for refuge in Buddhism.’ This particular mantra serves to focus the minds while making offerings and alms to the Three Precious Jewels: the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha (དཀོན་མཆོག་གསུམ་; dkon mchog gsum; 佛法僧三宝). Its recitation is intended to enhance the effectiveness of these offerings through geometric amplification, thereby augmenting one’s good deeds, merit, and karmic accumulation. Chanting mantras at any moment constitutes a means of engaging with the Dharma, a practice that deepens the chanter’s understanding and emotional resonance with the mantra, allowing them to realise the profound inspiration inherent in the Dharma teachings. Furthermore, the audible and affective nature of the chanting (Haywood, 2023) facilitates a transmission function; it enables other sentient beings to hear the mantras, thus providing them with an opportunity to begin to comprehend and enter the realm of the Dharma. This effect is particularly pronounced in the lofty and expansive mountain landscapes, where the sound of chanting can carry further on the wind, reaching a greater number of beings.
For Mom Drolma, this practice exemplifies her deep engagement with regular Buddhist self-cultivation, reflecting her unwavering devotion as a Tibetan Buddhist practitioner. Her spiritual activity resonates beyond her own being, influencing the yaks, birds, insects, microorganisms, and the local lha (ལྷ) deity who own these mountains and Yartsa Gunbu, all of whom are encompassed within the sphere of her practice. Her chanting is not a utilitarian endeavour solely aimed at securing Cordyceps or attaining material benefits. Rather, this phenomenon constitutes what may be conceptualised as a ‘More-than-Human Dharma Assemblage.’ Drawing on Anna Tsing’s (2015, pp. 20–24) articulation of “assemblage” as “open-ended gatherings” and “world-making projects,” this framework underscores the entanglement of human and non-human actors in what she describes as “the very stuff of collaborative survival.” In the harsh and precarious Himalayan environment, such an assemblage takes on distinct ontological and cosmological dimensions. Beyond material interdependencies, it is animated through karmic causality and dharma-infused auditory encounters, where all sentient beings – including humans, animals, and spirits – are reconfigured within a moral and cosmic order.
The act of chanting and listening to mantras becomes a crucial medium through which she connects with the Buddha, receiving blessings and gifts that are both spiritual and existential. This practice reflects a quotidian yet deeply significant aspect of Tibetan personhood and livelihood, demonstrating how spiritual practices are interwoven into the fabric of everyday life. Such practices foster a profound sense of interconnectedness (Karmapa, 2017).
In this context, the harvest of caterpillar fungus cannot be reduced to a purely economic pursuit or framed solely within the confines of economic ethics. Instead, it must be understood as part of a larger cosmological and moral framework that integrates material, spiritual, and ecological dimensions. By situating the harvest within this broader context, the practice emerges as a holistic engagement with both the natural world, diverse life forms, and the transcendent aspirations of Tibetan Buddhist cosmology.
[1] All names are pseudonyms
References
Cook, J. and Diemberger, H. (2021) “Buddhism”. In The Open Encyclopedia of Anthropology, edited by Felix Stein. Facsimile of the first edition in The Cambridge Encyclopedia of Anthropology.
Haywood, M. A. (2023) Different affects? Intercepting orientalism through the affective encounters and ritualised mediations of a Shin Buddhist chanting tradition. Ethnomusicology forum. 32 (1), 97–119.
Karmapa, The. (2017) Interconnected: Embracing Life in Our Global Society. Somerville, MA: Wisdom Publications.
Tsing, A. L. (2015) The mushroom at the end of the world: on the possibility of life in capitalist ruins. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Winkler, D. (2008) Yartsa Gunbu (Cordyceps sinensis) and the Fungal Commodification of Tibet’s Rural Economy. Economic botany. 62 (3), 291–305.
