All your senses are open. Your ears are not blocked, nor are your eyes closed; you have feeling in all the pores of your body, and the thoughts in your mind are not blocked either. Nothing is obstructed. You are not looking right and left, fidgeting about trying to listen to this and that. "While keeping my ears open like Tsoknyi Rinpoche told me, should I now listen carefully to every single sound that comes along?" No, that is not what's meant. You do not have to listen deliberately or intently, and yet all senses are simply wide open...- from Tsoknyi Rinpoche, Maintenance (Quintessential Dzogchen pp. 224-225)
In other words, leave all the senses very open and alive, not necessarily reaching out toward objects, but simply aware. Our lineage masters all agreed that you do not have to be deliberately aware of things. Rather, just allow them to be reflected, to appear by themselves. When you look at the placid surface of a clear, quiet lake at night, the planets and stars just appear there. They present themselves, and when the surface is very serene and quiet, you can see them very clearly. It's the same way with our senses when they are left wide open.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
the unmoving senses like planets and stars reflected in a lake, from Tsoknyi Rinpoche
Sunday, June 07, 2009
moonshadows
Yesterday morning at the Zen dojo I have been attending, the teacher gave a brief talk that included a few poignant metaphors. He was saying that in the normal progression of our meditation practice we can become discouraged, thinking that the mind is not improving or even worsening, when many thoughts arise. We might characterize these thoughts as bad, or as reflecting our inability to meditate properly and make progress. This metaphor struck the chord of the appropriate response perfectly:
L'intensité de l'ombre des pins dépend de la clarté de la lune / The intensity of the pine trees' shadows depends on the brightness of the moon.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
emptiness of mind
The mind is not truly existent. Nothing is truly existent -- all phenomena are empty -- but as Tulku Urgyen Rinpoché points out, the mind is a special kind of phenomenon, empty in a different way (Buddha Nowhere Else, Quintessential Dzogchen p. 165).
Phenomena such as material objects, like tables and bodies, and phenomena such as mental objects, like thoughts and ideas, are empty in the sense of impermanence: they arise as a relative conglomeration of other phenomena, and then they pass. For a time there is an appearing substance that we name and grasp at, a thing we call "table" or "idea", before the thing metamorphoses into something else. The truth of phenomenal emptiness is that there is no period during which change is not taking place. Objects are either in the process of arising or in the process of passing away. Angela once told me that we can not in good faith call a table a "table", but should use nothing but verbs, calling it "tabling". Phenomena are just that unstable.
Mind, which I intend to mean not the objects of mind but the subject or that which does the thinking, is not like that; mind is no-thing. The emptiness of the mind is not in its impermanence but in its no-thing-ness. As much as we can observe the arising and passing away of a thought, and as much as we can know of the arising and passing away of seemingly stable mountains or planets, we can not say the same for the mind. There is no substance whatsoever, not even temporarily appearing, that we call "mind".
Is the mind then permanent? In a sense, it is permanent. It is, as I have been posting about lately, primordially pure and not dependent on causes and conditions. It is and has always been since beginningless time clear and brilliant, cognizant and aware, untainted by any samsaric arisings, indestructible: "Its original nature is the dharmakaya of all buddhas" (Tulku Urgyen Rinpoché, p. 165). But I don't think we can really say it is permanent, since it doesn't truly exist. Relatively speaking, we do assume or infer that the mind exists, and upon analysis, we can see it as primordially pure, but on an absolute level there is nothing to be found, nothing of which permanence can be an aspect.
Phenomena such as material objects, like tables and bodies, and phenomena such as mental objects, like thoughts and ideas, are empty in the sense of impermanence: they arise as a relative conglomeration of other phenomena, and then they pass. For a time there is an appearing substance that we name and grasp at, a thing we call "table" or "idea", before the thing metamorphoses into something else. The truth of phenomenal emptiness is that there is no period during which change is not taking place. Objects are either in the process of arising or in the process of passing away. Angela once told me that we can not in good faith call a table a "table", but should use nothing but verbs, calling it "tabling". Phenomena are just that unstable.
Mind, which I intend to mean not the objects of mind but the subject or that which does the thinking, is not like that; mind is no-thing. The emptiness of the mind is not in its impermanence but in its no-thing-ness. As much as we can observe the arising and passing away of a thought, and as much as we can know of the arising and passing away of seemingly stable mountains or planets, we can not say the same for the mind. There is no substance whatsoever, not even temporarily appearing, that we call "mind".
Is the mind then permanent? In a sense, it is permanent. It is, as I have been posting about lately, primordially pure and not dependent on causes and conditions. It is and has always been since beginningless time clear and brilliant, cognizant and aware, untainted by any samsaric arisings, indestructible: "Its original nature is the dharmakaya of all buddhas" (Tulku Urgyen Rinpoché, p. 165). But I don't think we can really say it is permanent, since it doesn't truly exist. Relatively speaking, we do assume or infer that the mind exists, and upon analysis, we can see it as primordially pure, but on an absolute level there is nothing to be found, nothing of which permanence can be an aspect.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
why we're not all buddhas
Buddha nature is the nature of every sentient being in the universe. We hear this basic tenet a lot in Buddhist teachings, but described in a certain way it hits home very clearly for me. Tulku Urgyen Rinpoché, in a chapter of Quintessential Dzogchen entitled Shamatha & Vipashyana, points out as usual that there is not a tiny speck of difference, be it in size or in colour or in strength, between the buddha nature of a microscopic insect and the buddha nature of a fully enlightened buddha. Rinpoché then answers the question of the difference between the two: while a buddha recognizes his or her emptiness nature, the cognizant aspect of a sentient being's mind grasps onto phenomena -- including his or her own mind -- as real (p. 158). We all experience worldly phenomena in spite of its inherent emptiness, but we non-buddhas, in spite of our mind's aspect of emptiness, grasp onto phenomena with our mind's aspect of cognizance. The buddha's mind is also comprised of the two aspects of emptiness and cognizance, but without cognizance grasping like this.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
great perfection
The Great Perfection does not require analysis nor cultivation. Rather, it is merely a matter of recognizing, as your own nature, this very wakefulness of natural knowing that is self-existing and spontaneously present throughout samsara and nirvana.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
dharmata
I'd like to go back to Quintessential Dzogchen, the book that is providing me both with material for many hours' worth of reflection, and with a freshness to my meditation practice. Through the trains of thought taken since my first post about this book, I think I lost sight of -- or at least properly due focus on -- the fundamental principle taught by the Dzogchen masters. I would like to reiterate it here, so that it can gel in my manner of thinking: The mind is primordially pure.
What does it mean to say that the mind is primordially pure? It does not mean pure as opposed to impure, in the sense of being cleansed, or naturally beautiful and good. It means that from time immemorial, the true nature of mind has been independent of cause and condition, and as Angela says, "never affected by the conceptualizations and elaborations that create problems for us."
Dzogchen practice consists, after a first recognition of this true nature of mind, in simply remembering. It is the practice of the direct perception of dharmata (the basic nature of reality; the "unformed and unconditioned nature of things which can be realized in personal experience" according to the glossary at Blazing Splendor). No dramatic conceptualizations, no philosophy, no questioning. All we have to do is remember that the mind is primordially pure, in essence empty and unaffected by all that appears to be going on, and to rest in that state.
What does it mean to say that the mind is primordially pure? It does not mean pure as opposed to impure, in the sense of being cleansed, or naturally beautiful and good. It means that from time immemorial, the true nature of mind has been independent of cause and condition, and as Angela says, "never affected by the conceptualizations and elaborations that create problems for us."
Dzogchen practice consists, after a first recognition of this true nature of mind, in simply remembering. It is the practice of the direct perception of dharmata (the basic nature of reality; the "unformed and unconditioned nature of things which can be realized in personal experience" according to the glossary at Blazing Splendor). No dramatic conceptualizations, no philosophy, no questioning. All we have to do is remember that the mind is primordially pure, in essence empty and unaffected by all that appears to be going on, and to rest in that state.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
zen, spring, and newish beginnings
I made the decision last week to end my Tibetan yoga apprenticeship and instead take on additional meditation practice, this time under Zen tutelage. I continue to meditate every day, but this morning began what I hope to be a weekly practice with a Zen sangha here in town. The decision has been a long time coming because of my attachment to Tibetan Buddhism and all things Tibetan. I attended Tibetan yoga classes for about six months, and although I benefited quite a lot from them, they were no replacement for meditation practice with a sangha.
I studied Zen a little bit as part of my Eastern Religions minor. That was a long time ago, and most of the details have dissolved from my memory into the ether. I realize now that in the years since then, I've been holding on to a few details and a bundle of preconceptions about Zen without ever having practiced Zen or known any Zen practitioners. Over at 108 Days [the Remix], there are at least two people who identify as Zen Buddhists, and in the past few weeks I've come to have a different approach to Zen, much because of them. I'm very grateful for that.
Where I live, there is neither Tibetan nor Theravadan sangha. If there had been either, I probably wouldn't have been at the dojo this morning. I love the complementarity of Theravadan meditation to my personality: I am somewhat ritualistic, their approach involves very little ritual and few implements; I usually approach things from an intellectual standpoint, they prioritize the meditative experience without a lot of philosophy. I have some experience with Theravada, having known practitioners and attended teachings in the past.
My studies over the past decade or so, though, have largely been in the Tibetan tradition. There is a Tibetan (Kagyu) temple about an hour away from here (Temple des Mille Bouddhas), and a branch group affiliated with the temple practices about a half hour away. But getting even that far on a regular basis is complicated for me. I have been to the temple twice, and may well go back, but certainly not weekly.
Today at the dojo, I was surprised and impressed for a number of reasons. First of all, no one was there but the teacher and one other practitioner. There is a sesshin on this weekend in Lyon, the teacher told me, and most of the sangha are there. I was quite happy to have my first experience of the dojo today, when the teacher had plenty of time to answer my questions and discuss his school of Buddhism (Soto Zen) in comparison to others. Second, there is quite an extensive ritual to follow before and after sitting, involving plenty of gasho, or bowing with the hands in prayer position. We bowed to the room, to the Buddha, to the zafu, and to the wall (the third surprise). I was taught that if the need to move ever arose during meditation, a bow was in order both before and after moving, to excuse oneself in a sense for disturbing the peace. Third, we meditated facing the wall, quite close to it in fact. The zabutons were all flush against the wall, which puts the meditators' eyes about 50cm away. The altar was near the middle of the room.
The teacher corrected my posture. In Tibetan Buddhism (and as far as I know, in Theravadan Buddhism), teachers give tips about posture, and maybe even talks about posture, but it is not the focus of meditation. In Zen, as I was taught today, correct posture is a major focus for meditation. Posture is enlightenment. I probably made many mistakes during the rituals at the beginning and at the end of the session, despite having just been told how to proceed, but my posture is the only thing the teacher thought necessary to correct.
The mind's events during meditation are not to be paid much mind, if I understand correctly. The attention can rest on the breath or on the posture, and thoughts can come and go but not be followed. There should be no fixation on a goal of any kind; there should be just sitting (or just walking). This is not very different from meditation as I know it, apart from the stronger emphasis on posture and the weaker emphasis on mind-emptying. Of course, as with any Buddhist practice, the core experience is that of the moment, that of resting in what is here, now.
When I got home, I got on with some work I had to do on my bike. I've been riding it more now that spring is here and it was in need of a tuneup. I also had a few things to install. I tightened the brakes, pumped the tires, put in a water bottle cage and installed a child's seat for my daughter. It wasn't until I was partway into this work that the title of Robert Pirsig's ingenious novel came to mind, and I realized I was living the experience of Zen and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance as my mind merged with the work and the ritual of the work. If you haven't yet, I highly recommend reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It became my favourite book instantly when I read it 15 years ago, and it remains near if not at the very top of my list of favourites, to this day.
I'm very happy with the decision I made. It feels good to meditate with others, and I'm glad to be learning about Zen from an experiential perspective. I have missed the sangha dearly, and although my affection for the Palyul sangha members I know in Ottawa is still very strong, it's not only their personal friendship or our personal connections that I miss, it's the spiritual community that we form together. That wider notion of sangha includes the Zen community I have found here, as well as all other practitioners in all schools around the world, and I am so happy to be an active part of it again.
I studied Zen a little bit as part of my Eastern Religions minor. That was a long time ago, and most of the details have dissolved from my memory into the ether. I realize now that in the years since then, I've been holding on to a few details and a bundle of preconceptions about Zen without ever having practiced Zen or known any Zen practitioners. Over at 108 Days [the Remix], there are at least two people who identify as Zen Buddhists, and in the past few weeks I've come to have a different approach to Zen, much because of them. I'm very grateful for that.
Where I live, there is neither Tibetan nor Theravadan sangha. If there had been either, I probably wouldn't have been at the dojo this morning. I love the complementarity of Theravadan meditation to my personality: I am somewhat ritualistic, their approach involves very little ritual and few implements; I usually approach things from an intellectual standpoint, they prioritize the meditative experience without a lot of philosophy. I have some experience with Theravada, having known practitioners and attended teachings in the past.
My studies over the past decade or so, though, have largely been in the Tibetan tradition. There is a Tibetan (Kagyu) temple about an hour away from here (Temple des Mille Bouddhas), and a branch group affiliated with the temple practices about a half hour away. But getting even that far on a regular basis is complicated for me. I have been to the temple twice, and may well go back, but certainly not weekly.
Today at the dojo, I was surprised and impressed for a number of reasons. First of all, no one was there but the teacher and one other practitioner. There is a sesshin on this weekend in Lyon, the teacher told me, and most of the sangha are there. I was quite happy to have my first experience of the dojo today, when the teacher had plenty of time to answer my questions and discuss his school of Buddhism (Soto Zen) in comparison to others. Second, there is quite an extensive ritual to follow before and after sitting, involving plenty of gasho, or bowing with the hands in prayer position. We bowed to the room, to the Buddha, to the zafu, and to the wall (the third surprise). I was taught that if the need to move ever arose during meditation, a bow was in order both before and after moving, to excuse oneself in a sense for disturbing the peace. Third, we meditated facing the wall, quite close to it in fact. The zabutons were all flush against the wall, which puts the meditators' eyes about 50cm away. The altar was near the middle of the room.
The teacher corrected my posture. In Tibetan Buddhism (and as far as I know, in Theravadan Buddhism), teachers give tips about posture, and maybe even talks about posture, but it is not the focus of meditation. In Zen, as I was taught today, correct posture is a major focus for meditation. Posture is enlightenment. I probably made many mistakes during the rituals at the beginning and at the end of the session, despite having just been told how to proceed, but my posture is the only thing the teacher thought necessary to correct.
The mind's events during meditation are not to be paid much mind, if I understand correctly. The attention can rest on the breath or on the posture, and thoughts can come and go but not be followed. There should be no fixation on a goal of any kind; there should be just sitting (or just walking). This is not very different from meditation as I know it, apart from the stronger emphasis on posture and the weaker emphasis on mind-emptying. Of course, as with any Buddhist practice, the core experience is that of the moment, that of resting in what is here, now.
When I got home, I got on with some work I had to do on my bike. I've been riding it more now that spring is here and it was in need of a tuneup. I also had a few things to install. I tightened the brakes, pumped the tires, put in a water bottle cage and installed a child's seat for my daughter. It wasn't until I was partway into this work that the title of Robert Pirsig's ingenious novel came to mind, and I realized I was living the experience of Zen and the Art of Bicycle Maintenance as my mind merged with the work and the ritual of the work. If you haven't yet, I highly recommend reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It became my favourite book instantly when I read it 15 years ago, and it remains near if not at the very top of my list of favourites, to this day.
I'm very happy with the decision I made. It feels good to meditate with others, and I'm glad to be learning about Zen from an experiential perspective. I have missed the sangha dearly, and although my affection for the Palyul sangha members I know in Ottawa is still very strong, it's not only their personal friendship or our personal connections that I miss, it's the spiritual community that we form together. That wider notion of sangha includes the Zen community I have found here, as well as all other practitioners in all schools around the world, and I am so happy to be an active part of it again.
Monday, April 06, 2009
compassion and pride
A few weeks ago, I asked my teachers some questions about the Dzogchen concept of mind. I have been processing their answers in my slow and methodical way. Lama Lhanang Rinpoché, my friend and teacher whom I accompanied to Tibet in 2006 and to whom I am very grateful, gave me the following response. I have come to properly face it only in time.
I understand the development of compassion to mean that whatever arises should be approached with gentleness and acceptance and the sincere wish to benefit. I think compassion, while comprising our true nature on the ultimate level, could use some deepening in our behaviours and mental patterns in a relative sense.
This teaching has stayed with me today, but it was difficult to continue putting it into practice through certain events. I think I did well, but I have some concerns that the stressful events of daily life will push the teaching to the back of my mind when it is so very important. In an effort to prevent that from happening, I would like to include some metta practices on my path, perhaps introducing a weekly tonglen practice.
Everything comes from emptiness and emptiness comes from everything, but we exist in this world because of karma.At first, I missed a big part of the point, which Lama Lhanang often makes. "Develop wisdom and compassion... work with your pride..." When complex questions arise (and mine are still unresolved, still arising), it's important not to tend to the extreme of attachment to concepts. Maybe there is an answer, but it's probably not one that can be properly expressed in words. It's certainly not one that is inherently, absolutely true and real: even emptiness is empty, when it comes down to it. So let the conceptualizations go, allow them to dissolve at least sometimes, work with your pride and develop compassion.
We are living in a dream world because all the past is already a dream, and all the future is dreaming. At this moment we continue to be dreaming. Everything is empty and right now we continue dreaming after we wake from this world.
When we wake, then we are buddhas. Meanwhile, we have to deal with the reality of cause and effect until we reach enlightenment.
But don't worry too much. Be a good person and live in the moment, enjoy every moment. Be good to yourself and others.
Develop wisdom and compassion and work with your pride and jealousy and your inner problems, creating peace every moment. That is the best way.
I understand the development of compassion to mean that whatever arises should be approached with gentleness and acceptance and the sincere wish to benefit. I think compassion, while comprising our true nature on the ultimate level, could use some deepening in our behaviours and mental patterns in a relative sense.
This teaching has stayed with me today, but it was difficult to continue putting it into practice through certain events. I think I did well, but I have some concerns that the stressful events of daily life will push the teaching to the back of my mind when it is so very important. In an effort to prevent that from happening, I would like to include some metta practices on my path, perhaps introducing a weekly tonglen practice.
Mind and Life XVIII
Today began the eighteenth Mind and Life Conference, entitled Attention, Memory and the Mind: A Synergy of Psychological, Neuroscientific, and Contemplative Perspectives. If you know me, you may know how exciting this conference is for me in general, and you may have an inkling that this particular one is just my cup of tea. Here are this year's participants, who gathered this morning at His Holiness' residence in Dharamsala:
- Tenzin Gyatso, His Holiness, the XIV Dalai Lama
- David E. Meyer, Ph.D., Professor of Psychology, University of Michigan
- B. Alan Wallace, Ph.D., President, Santa Barbara Institute for Consciousness Studies
- Anne Treisman, Ph.D., Professor of Psychology, Princeton University
- Rupert Gethin, Ph.D., Director of the Centre for Buddhist Studies, University of Bristol, UK
- Adele Diamond, Ph.D., Professor of Developmental Cognitive Neuroscience, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC, Canada
- Amishi Jha, Ph.D., Assistant Professor of Psychology, University of Pennsylvania
- Clifford Saron, Ph.D., Assistant Research Scientist, Center for Mind and Brain, UC Davis
- Elizabeth Phelps, Ph.D., Professor of Psychology, New York University
- Shaun Gallagher, Ph.D., Professor of Philosophy and Cognitive Science, University of Central Florida
- Geshe Thupten Jinpa, Ph.D., President of the Institute of Tibetan Classics in Montreal
- B. Alan Wallace, Ph.D., President of the Santa Barbara Institute for Consciousness Studies
Saturday, April 04, 2009
A message from Dzogchen Khenpo Choga Rinpoche
ETA (Apr. 5): I have resolved the links at the end of the message, which were not working for me. I don't know which site was originally linked to for His Holiness' biography, but I have linked to both the Palyul site and the Dzogchen Lineage site, the latter of which is taken directly from the former.
__________________________________________
I found the following message at Blazing Splendor and thought I would post it here for those who might be interested. You may appreciate the detailed suggestions for practice, or the links at the end of the message. (There is a discrepancy with the Palyul press release regarding the time of death.)
Dear Precious Sangha,
__________________________________________
I found the following message at Blazing Splendor and thought I would post it here for those who might be interested. You may appreciate the detailed suggestions for practice, or the links at the end of the message. (There is a discrepancy with the Palyul press release regarding the time of death.)
Dear Precious Sangha,
We just heard the news that our lineage master, His Holiness Drubwang Pema Norbu (Penor) Rinpoche, has reached his parinirvana on March 27th, 2009 at 3:30 pm (Karnataka, South India Time) or 3:00 am Pacific Time USA.
H. H. Penor Rinpoche was born in 1932 and was recognized by Khenpo Ngawang Palzang and the Fifth Dzogchen Rinpoche as the Third Drubwang Pema Norbu Rinpoche, the Eleventh Throneholder of Palyul Monastery and throughout his 77 years completed many vast and profound Dharma activities. From 1992 to 2003, H.H. Penor Rinpoche served as the Supreme Head of the Nyingma School. He is one of the great Dzogchen Lineage Masters for us.
This may come as sad news to some because it seems that he has left this world, but actually he is never separate from us. He always lives in the heart of our faith. According to Dzogchen Tantras, when a great enlightened teacher passes into parinirvana students have an extraordinary moment to receive blessings from this teacher by making supplications and offerings, as well as making profound personal commitments and aspirations. This is an especially powerful time to request teachings and blessings while praying that more emanations of this master manifest in this world to benefit all beings.
Therefore, I request all International Dzogchen Sanghas to gather their local communities together and do the following practices and ceremonies:
1. Offer Flowers, Lights, and Water: In front of a photo of H.H. Penor Rinpoche, offer beautiful flowers, luminous lights, and clear, clean water.
2. Offer Tsok Pujas (Feast Offerings): Specifically you can do the Rigdzin Dupa or Yumka Tsok, or simply recite the concise feast offering from The Buddha Path.
3. Recite Guru Padmasambhava Mantra: Recite the following mantra 100,000 times or as much as possible:
Om Ah Hung Badzra Guru Padma Siddhi Hung
4. Read and discuss H.H. Penor Rinpoche’s amazing Life Story.
5. Request teachings and blessings: Pray to H.H. Penor Rinpoche for your personal answers, blessings, and empowerment.
6. Make Profound and Sincere Commitments: Make a commitment to do positive things such as teach Dharma and practice, while committing not to do negative things. You can say, “Please Your Holiness Penor Rinpoche, bless me. For the true happiness of all beings, I hearby commit that I will do good things such as ...[your positive activities] and avoid doing bad things such as...[your negative activities]. Please holy enlightened master Penor Rinpoche, please bless me that I may accomplish my aspirations for the true happiness of all beings.”
Right after the parinirvana of great enlightened beings, whatever virtuous aspirations and commitments you make will swiftly be fulfilled.
7. Make Aspirations Pray:
“May I keep His Holiness Penor Rinpoche’s advice and teachings in the depth of my heart.
May I sincerely follow the Dzogchen path of His Holiness Penor Rinpoche.
May I fulfill the great aspirations of His Holiness Penor Rinpoche.
May I faithfully recognize that Penor Rinpoche is always in my heart.”
By the power of Penor Rinpoche’s aspirations, may the Dzogchen Lineage increase and may the world have peace and happiness forever.
This message is from Dzogchen Khenpo Choga Rinpoche’s longing faith and devotion.
Penor Rinpoche’s Biography and Other Links:
Biography: Here is the Palyul site's biography about Pema Norbu Rinpoche (or see the Dzogchen Lineage site).
Gather friends and watch Movies and Videos about Penor Rinopoche: There are many videos available online that reveal his amazing activities. The Compassionate World is an hour-long documentary that wonderfully illustrates his amazing dharma activities. It is found in four parts on YouTube:
The Compassionate World: Part One
The Compassionate World: Part Two
The Compassionate World: Part Three
The Compassionate World: Part Four
There is also an official YouTube channel devoted to Penor Rinpoche:
http://www.youtube.com/palyul
Saturday, March 28, 2009
thugdam of his holiness penor rinpoché
[From http://news.palyul.org/?p=15]The 11th Throneholder of the Palyul Lineage of the Nyingma School of Tibetan Buddhism, His Holiness Penor Rinpoche, entered the final stage of meditation at 8:20 PM on Friday, March 27, 2009, at the Palyul Namdroling Monastery in Bylakuppe, South India.
Earlier, at noon, His Holiness received offerings from many of the highest Nyingma Lamas, Tulkus and dignitaries who had assembled to pay homage to him. Rinpoche left Columbia Asia Hospital at 3:30 PM with a Indian police escort arranged with the assistance of the Bhutanese government. He reached Palyul Namdroling at 6:40 PM and remained on his bed at the residence. Tulkus, Khenpos and lamas did aspiration prayers together with His Holiness until 8:20 PM. At that time Rinpoche looked around and then closed his eyes and went into meditation.
Prayers continued for 5 minutes and then everyone remained in silence for the next two hours. His Holiness’ meditation continues today, and is expected to continue for the next several days. When His Holiness releases his body from meditation, there will be an official acknowledgement of the final passing, allowing everyone to pay their respects according to tradition...
Thursday, March 12, 2009
how and why
I hope I understand the issues I raised recently a little bit better after some e-discussion with Angela. I will give the explanation a try here. I seem to have posed three questions in particular: 1) Why does the primordially pure mind manifest? 2) Why does the primordially pure mind manifest in this way? 3) How does the primordially pure mind manifest?
The mind manifests because it is not only primordially pure but also cognizant. These are the two qualities of mind that I had learned about in Quintessential Dzogchen so far (primordial purity and cognizance/awareness). I was going to post next about the quality of cognizance, though I touched on it briefly in my first post about this book, but I got sidetracked and focused too much on the single quality (out of three, apparently) of purity. I have a detail-oriented mind, to a clear fault. So, I think the answer is simply that mind, which is empty but not non-existent, appears because it has this quality of cognizance.
The mind manifests in this way because of karma. Each of us has his or her own way of seeing the world, in the human realm or otherwise, and this is according to the principle of cause and effect. Over our countless past lifetimes, we have accumulated karma that ripens in the present and future (a manner of speaking, since time is not linear), and this is why we see and hear the things we do.
I am still working on Question 3. I have gleaned that there is in fact a mechanism for the manifestation of mind, and the mechanism is the third quality of mind, which is that of energy or reflectiveness. I don't know much (read: anything) about this quality yet.
Angela also pointed out that, "As you say, it is just like that - but to truly understand 'just like that' - that is the practice."
The mind manifests because it is not only primordially pure but also cognizant. These are the two qualities of mind that I had learned about in Quintessential Dzogchen so far (primordial purity and cognizance/awareness). I was going to post next about the quality of cognizance, though I touched on it briefly in my first post about this book, but I got sidetracked and focused too much on the single quality (out of three, apparently) of purity. I have a detail-oriented mind, to a clear fault. So, I think the answer is simply that mind, which is empty but not non-existent, appears because it has this quality of cognizance.
The mind manifests in this way because of karma. Each of us has his or her own way of seeing the world, in the human realm or otherwise, and this is according to the principle of cause and effect. Over our countless past lifetimes, we have accumulated karma that ripens in the present and future (a manner of speaking, since time is not linear), and this is why we see and hear the things we do.
I am still working on Question 3. I have gleaned that there is in fact a mechanism for the manifestation of mind, and the mechanism is the third quality of mind, which is that of energy or reflectiveness. I don't know much (read: anything) about this quality yet.
Angela also pointed out that, "As you say, it is just like that - but to truly understand 'just like that' - that is the practice."
Sunday, March 08, 2009
108 Days
A few days ago, I committed to practising daily sitting meditation for 108 days. I have actually been disciplined about meditating every day since we got back from Canada in mid-January, but this makes it a bit more official. I've joined a group of people in their commitment (I'm four days behind the rest of them), which can be followed or joined at this website.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
faith, and why
Since my last post, which I accidentally published long before finishing, I have been processing the concepts in Quintessential Dzogchen even more slowly and deliberately. It might take me a while to formulate and articulate it all here. For now, I want to go back to two items from the last post and make a note about the thoughts I've had around them in the past few days.
This is the first time I've actually written about Dzogchen, and for me, it is through writing that I come to the clearest understanding of anything. Writing the last post made me wonder if throughout the many teachings I have heard and read about Dzogchen I had been accepting things on blind faith. After all, what proof is there that the mind-essence is in fact primordially pure? There is logic to the concept of the emptiness of mind, but none that I can see to its so-called primordial purity. I have not had the pointing-out instruction from a lama (apart from readings, but I don't see them as having led me to realization), nor do I think I can say that I have truly connected with this absolute purity. Scientific research on the mind, as I mentioned, can not begin to answer this type of question. So how can I state that the mind's true essence is actually pure, that each one of us sentient beings has the exact same buddha nature that Shakyamuni and Samantabhadra did?
For me, this draws out the distinction between blind faith and plain old faith. If I remember correctly, the term for "faith" in Tibetan is synonymous with "confidence", which to me is a better way to refer to the particular kind of faith I have. It took me many years to come to the confidence, in the teachings and in myself, to take official refuge in the Buddha, the dharma and the sangha. I waited until I trusted both the doctrine and the path of the dharma enough, and until I trusted that I myself could follow the path for the rest of my life, before I made any commitments. I do have faith, then, but it is based on study and reflection. The point of faith of which I'm speaking here -- the primordial purity of mind -- belongs for me to the category of confidence in the teachings. I have gained a lot of confidence over the years in Buddhist philosophy and particularly in Dzogchen, having verified some of its tenets to my satisfaction. Therefore, I have confidence in the wisdom of Buddhist philosophers and those who have purportedly come to know the absolute nature of mind.
Another question that has come up upon reflection in the last few days is that of why the primordially pure, empty-in-essence mind manifests itself in the ways it does. Why do we see and hear the things we do? What is the mechanism that leads the "ground" of all being, so much like empty space itself, to be expressed as human tribulations (for us humans)? If I am in absolute reality not truly existent, and neither are any other beings or any of the perceptions I or they have, how on earth, and why, has mind come up with it all? And how, why, in this way?
It's a bit of a sticking point still, but when by way of answer my mind went to the place where "it's just like that," I felt a kind of resting, concept-free realization. Why posit a mechanism if there is none? I don't know what the Dzogchen perspective is on this, so I will be asking my teachers. But I do feel that it's just like that.
This is the first time I've actually written about Dzogchen, and for me, it is through writing that I come to the clearest understanding of anything. Writing the last post made me wonder if throughout the many teachings I have heard and read about Dzogchen I had been accepting things on blind faith. After all, what proof is there that the mind-essence is in fact primordially pure? There is logic to the concept of the emptiness of mind, but none that I can see to its so-called primordial purity. I have not had the pointing-out instruction from a lama (apart from readings, but I don't see them as having led me to realization), nor do I think I can say that I have truly connected with this absolute purity. Scientific research on the mind, as I mentioned, can not begin to answer this type of question. So how can I state that the mind's true essence is actually pure, that each one of us sentient beings has the exact same buddha nature that Shakyamuni and Samantabhadra did?
For me, this draws out the distinction between blind faith and plain old faith. If I remember correctly, the term for "faith" in Tibetan is synonymous with "confidence", which to me is a better way to refer to the particular kind of faith I have. It took me many years to come to the confidence, in the teachings and in myself, to take official refuge in the Buddha, the dharma and the sangha. I waited until I trusted both the doctrine and the path of the dharma enough, and until I trusted that I myself could follow the path for the rest of my life, before I made any commitments. I do have faith, then, but it is based on study and reflection. The point of faith of which I'm speaking here -- the primordial purity of mind -- belongs for me to the category of confidence in the teachings. I have gained a lot of confidence over the years in Buddhist philosophy and particularly in Dzogchen, having verified some of its tenets to my satisfaction. Therefore, I have confidence in the wisdom of Buddhist philosophers and those who have purportedly come to know the absolute nature of mind.
Another question that has come up upon reflection in the last few days is that of why the primordially pure, empty-in-essence mind manifests itself in the ways it does. Why do we see and hear the things we do? What is the mechanism that leads the "ground" of all being, so much like empty space itself, to be expressed as human tribulations (for us humans)? If I am in absolute reality not truly existent, and neither are any other beings or any of the perceptions I or they have, how on earth, and why, has mind come up with it all? And how, why, in this way?
It's a bit of a sticking point still, but when by way of answer my mind went to the place where "it's just like that," I felt a kind of resting, concept-free realization. Why posit a mechanism if there is none? I don't know what the Dzogchen perspective is on this, so I will be asking my teachers. But I do feel that it's just like that.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Things I've Learned from Quintessential Dzogchen
I have been reading Quintessential Dzogchen: Confusion Dawns As Wisdom, a book of teachings compiled to make clear and accessible the Dzogchen path to anyone familiar with Buddhism, and specifically with the Vajrayana school. It is highly readable, and I am finding myself greatly inspired by the dharma once again through its medium. Many of the teachings and instructions come from Tulku Urgyen Rinpoché, and these are interspersed with guidance from other well-known contemporary masters as well as songs and poems by some of the ancients of Tibet. I've found this book not only epochally diverse and yet entirely relevant today, but also replete with a wealth of wisdom in regards to the colossally enigmatic thing we call the mind.
What is the mind? This is the question that seems to define my life, and so this type of research truly fascinates me. I studied the minds of children in university, conducting the research necessary to write a thesis on a narrow slice of the topic (specifically, preschool-age children's understanding of intention as it relates to their theory of mind and inhibitory control). It was an incredibly rewarding experience to do so, but nevertheless, the answers I felt I found -- which were slim pickings -- only generated and begged hundreds more questions. I've also been a Buddhist practitioner for going on a decade now, which to me involves a lot of mind-probing. But like my academic studies of Buddhism, my personal practice has brought a lot of satisfaction without answering the question.
Of course, there is no answer. I have trusted this as long as I can remember. My background in Western psychology does not allow me to say that I have proven there is no answer, since proof of something not existing is simply not scientifically possible, but I have poked and prodded and sought and questioned enough to satisfy myself that what I have heard is true: Mind is empty of true existence. There is no substance, no colour or taste or texture to mind. It cannot be found to arise in, abide in, or go to any particular place. And yet the mind exists: Though we cannot find it upon analysis, it certainly expresses itself as thoughts and perceptions, memories, hopes and fears, pleasures and displeasures. Quintessential Dzogchen reminds us that these are the two facets of the mind according to the pinnacle of the Vajrayana teachings: emptiness and cognizance. The mind is neither nonexistent nor truly existent. It is empty, and yet it appears as that which is aware.
The mind's essence -- as opposed to its expression -- is primordially pure, is identical to buddha nature, and this is one of the key points of Dzogchen, elaborated upon in this book. The difference between samsara and nirvana, between sentient beings and buddhas, is simply in the recognition of the primordial purity of our mind-essence. We can be introduced to the nature of mind by a guru, but we are not generally aware of it until it has been thus pointed out to us. Thereafter, we can train in seeing our mind-essence more often and for more prolonged periods, and eventually on a constant basis, at which point we have attained buddhahood. According to Shakya Shri Jnana,
What is the mind? This is the question that seems to define my life, and so this type of research truly fascinates me. I studied the minds of children in university, conducting the research necessary to write a thesis on a narrow slice of the topic (specifically, preschool-age children's understanding of intention as it relates to their theory of mind and inhibitory control). It was an incredibly rewarding experience to do so, but nevertheless, the answers I felt I found -- which were slim pickings -- only generated and begged hundreds more questions. I've also been a Buddhist practitioner for going on a decade now, which to me involves a lot of mind-probing. But like my academic studies of Buddhism, my personal practice has brought a lot of satisfaction without answering the question.
Of course, there is no answer. I have trusted this as long as I can remember. My background in Western psychology does not allow me to say that I have proven there is no answer, since proof of something not existing is simply not scientifically possible, but I have poked and prodded and sought and questioned enough to satisfy myself that what I have heard is true: Mind is empty of true existence. There is no substance, no colour or taste or texture to mind. It cannot be found to arise in, abide in, or go to any particular place. And yet the mind exists: Though we cannot find it upon analysis, it certainly expresses itself as thoughts and perceptions, memories, hopes and fears, pleasures and displeasures. Quintessential Dzogchen reminds us that these are the two facets of the mind according to the pinnacle of the Vajrayana teachings: emptiness and cognizance. The mind is neither nonexistent nor truly existent. It is empty, and yet it appears as that which is aware.
The mind's essence -- as opposed to its expression -- is primordially pure, is identical to buddha nature, and this is one of the key points of Dzogchen, elaborated upon in this book. The difference between samsara and nirvana, between sentient beings and buddhas, is simply in the recognition of the primordial purity of our mind-essence. We can be introduced to the nature of mind by a guru, but we are not generally aware of it until it has been thus pointed out to us. Thereafter, we can train in seeing our mind-essence more often and for more prolonged periods, and eventually on a constant basis, at which point we have attained buddhahood. According to Shakya Shri Jnana,
"Primordial purity means that the basic nature of awareness belongs to neither samsara nor nirvana, and therefore its identity is primordially pure. No type of virtuous karmic cause and effect improves this primordial purity, nor does any type of unvirtuous karmic cause and effect worsen it... This primordially pure identity of awareness can be neither improved nor harmed by anything whatsoever." (p. 32)When I read this passage, I found it to be very radical. In essence, it is pointing to the mind as something stable, unborn and undying as buddhahood itself, which is quite the opposite of the Buddhist conception of impermanence when applied to the mind. But the middle way is just that, and after reflection I think I better understand what these words point to. On the relative level, in which the mind expresses itself in its various manifestations, there is no stability. Thoughts and memories and plans and ideas are fleeting and impermanent, and our buddha nature is obscured by all kinds of karmic imprints. But on the level of absolute truth, verified experientially throughout millennia, mind is none other than the Great Perfection itself, untainted and unobscured.
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