The Collected Works of Chögyam Trungpa: Volume Eight (67 page)

Sun
: Is there some reason why at this time you’ve decided to have seminary in that kind of setting rather than in a hotel?
²

CT
: I think one of the key issues is financial. We should spend money on our own environment rather than paying to use somebody else’s property. We prefer to be in solid tents rather than a hotel.

Sun
: So you see a more permanent facility at Rocky Mountain Dharma Center?

CT
: Absolutely, definitely, yes. We could rent such facilities to other groups when we’re not using them. One of the key advantages of RMDC is its location. It takes effort to get there, and you live outside. It isn’t a big city; you still have to relate with the local environment there.

Sun
: Sir, we would like to thank you very much for this interview.

1
. Rocky Mountain Dharma Center was established in 1971 by Chögyam Trungpa as a rural retreat center. It consists of several hundred acres of land located in the mountains above Fort Collins, Colorado, approximately two hours from Boulder, the seat of Trungpa Rinpoche’s work in Colorado.—Editor

2
. The Vajradhatu Seminary was established by Chögyam Trungpa in 1973, as a three-month advanced training session for students who had completed a number of years of practice and study. Following the completion of the Seminary, students could request permission to begin their ngöndro, the formal practice of vajrayana preliminaries. From 1973 to 1984, the seminaries were conducted in large resort hotels rented by Vajradhatu in the off-season. Beginning in 1985, the Vajradhatu Seminary was conducted at Rocky Mountain Dharma Center.—Editor

Natural Hierarchy

T
HE
S
HAMBHALA PRINCIPLE
is very deep and extraordinarily profound. I am so glad that you are able to share my vision, which is the vision of the warriors of Tibet, China, Japan, and Korea. The tradition of Shambhala is like the rising of the sun: When the sun rises, everybody is able to see it. But if people are blind, then they are not able to see it. When we say “blind,” we are referring to the setting-sun people. However, the fundamental or ultimate sun lies in the hearts of all people. Therefore, everyone possesses fundamental well-being, brilliance, and purity. Whoever a person is, he or she is capable of crying, and also capable of laughing. That is the indication that everyone has the Great Eastern Sun within them.

The fact that people are able to express their emotions is also connected with the notion that all individuals, no matter who they are, possess basic goodness. When we talk about basic goodness, we are not talking in terms of good and bad, but we are talking about unconditional health or unconditional goodness, without any reference point. Basic goodness is something like a sneeze. When you sneeze, there is no time to create or refer to a reference point. You just sneeze, or you just cough. Similarly, when a person has an orgasm, there’s no room or time to compare that experience with anything else. That simplicity and fundamental healthiness and that capability of having your own personal experience is called basic goodness, which does not have to be compared to basic badness.

Ultimate goodness is connected with the notion of ultimate joy without comparison to suffering. Out of that joy, we begin to experience, visually, the beauty of the blue sky; the beauty of a red rose; the beauty of a white chrysanthemum; the beauty of chattering brooks; the beauty of the openness of the ocean, where sky and land meet; the beauty of sweet and sour; the beauty of music, high pitches and low; the beauty of experiencing warmth on our bodies; the beauty of cool air, which creates natural refreshment; the beauty of eating a meal when we feel hungry; the beauty of drinking water when we feel thirsty; the beauty of learning more things when we feel that we are not learned enough—when we feel that we don’t know enough wisdom or vocabulary or language. I don’t want to paint a pleasure-oriented picture alone. There is also the beauty of your schoolmaster pinching you on the cheek, the beauty of being too hot on a midsummer’s day, the beauty of being too cold in the middle of winter—the beauty of pain, as well as the beauty of pleasure. All of those are connected with the fundamental notion of basic goodness.

You might ask why we speak of beauty. The answer is that beauty here means fullness, totality—total experience. Our life is completely full even though we might be completely bored. Boredom creates aloneness and sadness, which are also beautiful. Beauty in this sense is the total experience of things as they are. It is very realistic. It means that we can’t cheat ourselves—or anybody else, for that matter.

Real experience makes us sad and happy at the same time. In the Shambhalian approach, sadness and even cowardice are regarded as total experiences. When you feel sad and lonely or, for that matter, hassled by reality, sadness is the vanguard of bravery. The warrior should feel alone and lonely. Of course, you can exaggerate loneliness by saying, “Nobody loves me; nobody cares about me.” But the basic notion of sadness is like somebody playing a flute. The music has its own melody and beauty, but a flute can only be played by one person at a time. That experience of sadness, which makes us alone and individual, also creates the total awareness and mindfulness of thinking twice or thrice about reality. If you feel sad, you are more susceptible to seeing the blueness of an iris flower; you are more susceptible to seeing colorful butterflies; and you are more sympathetic to someone who is having a terrible headache. So sadness and joy put together are the fundamental notion of basic goodness. As I have already pointed out, basic goodness doesn’t mean being happy-go-lucky alone. Goodness here means that you have a body and the solidity of that reference point without reference point, which allows you to experience the world as it is.

Out of that experience of basic goodness arises the notion of the warrior.
Warrior
here, as you know already, doesn’t mean somebody who is a warmonger. Being a warrior simply means being brave, cheerful, considerate, and tidy. The color of the warrior is white; the expression of the warrior is a sense of humor; and the action of the warrior is pragmatic without any hesitation, none whatsoever. The warrior is capable of helping others, and, at the same time, the warrior fulfills his or her own discipline constantly. Naturally, the warrior also experiences sadness and joy simultaneously.

The warrior also experiences the vision, or the brightness, of the power of what is called the
Rigden
principle.
Rig
means “family heritage” and
den
means “possessing such a thing.” So the Rigdens are regarded as ancestral or cosmic power. The warrior realizes the power of the Rigdens by means of a spiritual friend, teacher, or companion, who is known as the
Sakyong
in Shambhala language.
Sa
means “earth,” and
kyong
means “propagator” or “protector.” So the Sakyong or teacher principle is the principle of the “protector of the earth.” This principle of leadership is someone who has connected with the cosmic power of the Rigden principle. Out of recognizing and communicating with such leadership, one begins to feel more sad, but one also begins to experience greater happiness at the same time. One begins to experience basic goodness constantly.

We need to understand the meaning of hierarchy in relation to this principle of leadership. Hierarchy, popularly speaking, is regarded as a negative principle. Often it is connected with dictatorship. But in our case, as a Shambhala principle, hierarchy is regarded as a working base, a very positive one. Hierarchy is similar to the four seasons: Spring gives birth to summer, summer gives birth to autumn, autumn gives birth winter, and winter gives birth to spring. For that matter, hierarchy is also a very natural process of how to create our world. That is to say, people get engaged because they like each other. Then they get married, and then they produce a child. Having produced a child, the father traditionally acts as a masculine force of discipline and tenderness combined, while the mother acts as a nurturing force and playmate. She introduces the child to the soft world, whereas the father introduces the child to the hard world. When those soft and hard worlds are put together, the child begins to grow up, to stand instead of crawling, and when the child reaches a certain age, he or she begins to bite the mother’s nipples instead of sucking them. That is a message to the mother that it is time to give up nursing, because the child is ready to eat baby food.

Hierarchy can have many sorts of analogies. In the negative sense, hierarchy is regarded as a lid that controls you and shuts you off. But in the Shambhala context, hierarchy provides a situation where you can learn and learn and learn and expand your vision. That is the notion of studying with the Sakyong principle. The Shambhala analogy for hierarchy is that it is like greenery and flowers and fruit that blossom and bloom and manifest their ostentatious beauty. They look up as the sun arises and simultaneously they are nurtured by the manure that they are planted in.

In order to have a decent dwelling place, you need a roof, walls, and a floor. That in itself is hierarchy. We depend on the roof and ceiling and walls to protect us from harsh weather. In order to have an accommodating place to sit, we create a floor, and then we become more extravagant, and we begin to extend our mind in different directions. We begin to add furniture; we put carpet on the floor; and, goodness knows, we might install a stereo system, or a water bed, a television set, sophisticated kitchen apparatus, and all the rest of it. That whole creation comes from the basic notion of hierarchy. Hierarchy starts from basic goodness and experiencing sadness and joy. Then we begin to realize our creativity as human beings, and we begin to expand our world, as it is.

Conquering Comfort

L
ANDING IN
N
OVA
S
COTIA

S
UPPOSING YOU WERE DUMPED
here in the middle of Nova Scotia, without any introductions from anybody—not even your father, mother, relatives, business associates. What if you suddenly landed here in the middle of nowhere without even clothes in the middle of this weather? How are you going to handle yourselves, ladies and gentlemen? You don’t have calling cards in your pocket, you don’t have business references; you are on your own—literally, ideally, absolutely. That is the Buddhist notion of discovering enlightenment.

That should happen to you. You should land here, be delivered here, in the middle of Cape Breton. With nobody to introduce you to each other, or to anybody, how could you make yourself available and kind to somebody? That is a very interesting reference point, don’t you think? That is why we are here, actually.

At that point we will be so frightened of our own discipline, let alone our reference point to others. We begin to develop tremendous fear of our own discipline: our own sitting practice, our own following our breath. Even having good posture is in question. Basic goodness does not mean that we can con others because we have basic goodness. We are talking about personal basic goodness which we don’t have to proclaim or advertise. It does not depend on advertisement or on introductions by somebody else. Instead, basic goodness could mean being on the spot—right here.

With that might come lots of fear, lots of confusion, and a lot of loneliness, nonetheless. We may be inconvenienced by the environment and all the rest of it. So discipline here means freedom from fear, freedom from fear of ourselves. When we are here by ourselves, we are constantly freaked out, haunted by ourselves. If you yourself breathe heavier, you might think somebody else is behind you breathing down your neck. “Who’s that?” “Who said?” “What’s that?” And we are also afraid of others. “If I’m here, if I make connections with anybody, it’s just the sea waves hitting the rocks of Cape Breton.” There’s not even a glimpse of brilliant sunshine to dry our hair, dry our pores.

Nonetheless, difficult situations like that can actually bring out tremendous goodness, a sense of basic goodness. And in fact, we might be able to bring out the notion of fearlessness as well. It’s possible. It’s feasible. In fact it’s more than feasible, ladies and gentlemen.

I’m glad all of you are here in this particular severe place. A lot of you thought that you were going to have a great time coming up here, but you didn’t. I am glad you didn’t. But I’m glad you did, in some sense. We are proud of what is happening here—including the weather, of course.

I went out today and appreciated the frozen rain dropping onto my face and the fantastic waves hitting the shore. That is the only appreciation you have. There are no pretty girls with good bodies surfing. There’s no anything. It is just basic reality—which might be an interesting way to cut through the particular mara of devaputra.

This particular area, place, turns out to be the central place to present the notion of the four maras. The first mara, devaputra mara, could be overcome simply by being here. This is more than metaphorical—we can actually do so.

D
EVAPUTRA
M
ARA

Devaputra mara is that when there is such a severe challenge, such a severe way of relating with reality as this, we could forget what is there right now. We could dream, fantasize all sorts of possibilities. And one of the first things which might come to your mind, when you are put in this potentially fearless possibility, is that you might find yourself dreaming about the past. “I wish I was back at home. I don’t have to be in Cape Breton any longer and face these rough shores and cold wind and bad weather. I wish I could be back home in—[
to Vajra Regent
] What do you say? What is the first thing which comes to mind?

Vajra Regent Ösel Tendzin:
New Jersey. [
Laughter
]